


Trained on You

by 70SecretKinks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky has a bigger family (non-canon siblings), Clint Barton is a Snarky Little Shit, Don't worry! All will end happily ever after, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Pec Fucking, Phone Sex, Post CA: TWS looking Bucky and Steve, Rimming, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Self-Hatred, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Very Mild PTSD-Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 93,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/70SecretKinks/pseuds/70SecretKinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is disabled veteran who's trying to learn how to live his life now without his left arm. His best friend Natasha pushes him to build up the strength and confidence he'd lost along with his limb at the Rally Health and Wellness Center with the help of top notch trainer/physical therapist Sam Wilson.</p><p>Bucky knew it'd be hard work. What he didn't realize was just how difficult it'd be to concentrate on his own rehabilitation at the innocuous, easygoing gym. But after he first lays eyes on new trainer and walking wet dream Steve Rogers, it's all he can do not to fall face first on the treadmill.</p><p>Working out had never gotten Bucky so worked up before. Go hard or go home? Yeah, he's definitely going home hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Over the Threshold

**Author's Note:**

> So, this idea was born in my brain while running on the treadmill one day. If I hadn't been sweating already, I definitely was after thinking about these two beautiful boys finding each other in the club.
> 
> I have a pretty good idea of where I'm going to take this tale but am willing to follow them wherever they decide to go. Hope you'll come along with us for the ride!
> 
> BTW, first chapter or two will be mild (Teen & up), with explicit material most definitely to follow.

Bucky Barnes stood outside of the Rally Wellness Center, right hand buried deep in the central front pocket of his favorite, well-worn, black hooded sweatshirt.  He stood with his back to the front door, hood up over his navy blue ball cap to try and shield his ears from the cold, crisp autumn wind that was whipping around him in fitful gusts.  Despite the blustery chill, it was an otherwise beautiful Saturday morning.  The sun blazed brightly in the cloudless azure sky as the leaves on the scattered trees that lined the busy New York City streets rustled in a bursting mosaic of warm fall colors.

Bucky squinted his eyes under the brim of his cap to scan the bustling Midtown sidewalks for the familiar form and face of his best friend Natasha.  She shouldn’t be that hard to spot.  All he had to do was search the crowds for a headful of thick, wavy, scarlet hair flicking like a swell of flames in the brilliant sunlight.  After scanning the throngs for more than a minute, he fished his phone out of his pocket to check the time.  9:58 a.m.  Hmmm... Natasha wasn’t usually late.  Bucky was just getting ready to dial her up when his phone vibrated in hand, a text message from Nat appearing on the screen:

**_Sorry…running late.  Go in, ask for Sam.  C U soon._ **

Bucky shook his head and texted back:

**_Good thing you texted.  I was about to call the Coast Guard._ **

He sighed heavily, putting his phone back in his pocket as he turned towards the front door.  Of all the days for Nat to be running late.  He thought about waiting outside until she arrived but his cheeks were beginning to sting from the cold.  Besides, his appointment was scheduled for 10 a.m. and he didn’t want to be a prick by walking in late when he was literally just standing on the other side the front door.  Bucky sucked in a deep breath, pulled the heavy glass door open and stepped tentatively into the entry way, a blast of warm air heating his wind-burned cheeks.  For a moment, he just stood there looking like a wary deer.  Big, pensive, steel-blue eyes scanning his surroundings as he took small, tentative steps with wobbly legs and unsure feet.

A large, chest-high, wood and brushed nickel, crescent-shaped check-in desk stood ten feet in front of him in the center of the small, clean lobby.  Behind the desk was a floor-to-ceiling wall made of bubbled antique glass—the opaque divider allowing people on either side to see vague shapes, shadows, and movement but no specific details.  He could hear the distant sound of thumping bass music and the tinny echo of a woman’s voice counting repetitions and offering words of encouragement to what he knew must be some kind of group fitness class.  Then there was the familiar noise of metal weight plates clinking together and the occasional grunt from a guy obviously pushing himself to the point of overexertion.

An attractive young woman with a high, tight, platinum-blonde ponytail and bronze-tanned skin was seated behind it wearing a hot pink and black warm-up jacket and a friendly-looking smile.  Bucky stood still on the threshold for a moment, willing his feet to carry him further inside.  It wasn’t like he’d never been in a gym before.  Hell he practically lived one before he’d shipped out.  He just hadn’t been back to a club since he’d lost his left arm thanks to a roadside bomb in the middle of the Afghan desert.

He’d already been through months of rehabilitation (physical and psychological) at the VA Hospital following his honorable discharge but he knew he still had a long, rough road ahead.  In the eighteen months following the devastating attack that took his limb away, Bucky had become acutely aware of just how goddamn great the first twenty-five years of his life had actually been.  Only back then, he apparently hadn’t appreciated it as much as he really should have.  “Don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone?”  No fucking joke.

Still, Bucky felt pretty damn grateful to be alive.  It doesn’t escape him that he was one of the lucky ones that fateful day.  He’d survived, and mostly in-tact.  A number of the men in his unit weren’t so fortunate.  The three soldiers closest to the blast—Smith, Hansen, & Delgado—were all killed upon impact.  Kowalski had both of his legs blown off at the knee, and Ross’ brain trauma had left him in a medically-induced coma he remained in to this day.  So, yeah, most days he was just happy to be here.

Other days though, Bucky couldn’t stem the rising tide of anger and frustration he felt as he struggled to complete the most menial tasks with one goddamn arm.  Things he’d never realized he’d been taking for granted all his life.  Like buttoning his jeans after taking a piss, tying his shoes, playing Call of Duty, opening a fucking jar of pickles… the list of challenges was seemingly endless.  Thank Christ he’d been born right-handed.  It was incredibly comforting and completely satisfying to still be able to sign his name and jerk his cock with the same inherent ease as he’d always done.

Despite his daily struggles, Bucky refused to become dependent on his family and friends, vehemently rejecting their frequent, well-meaning offers of help.  Not because he wanted to be a difficult, obstinate sonofabitch (he’d been that way since he was a toddler), but because he didn’t want to be a burden.  More than that, he didn’t want to be a victim.  He felt like he’d been spared for a reason… given a second chance to live his life.  He wasn’t keen to waste it.

So, after weeks of nearly constant harassment, Natasha had finally convinced Bucky to go to Rally and give working with Sam Wilson a try.  Sam, a former military veteran himself, is the club’s most sought after personal trainer.  Not only because he might easily be one of the nicest people on the whole damn planet, but because he gets results.  It doesn’t hurt that he also happens to be a certified physical therapist with a passion for helping his fellow soldiers.  Nat had sworn repeatedly that Sam would know just how far and how hard to push Bucky to help him regain the strength, balance, and self-confidence he’d lost that day in the blast.

And Natasha should know.  She’d worked with Sam herself following the head-on collision she’d suffered at the hands of a drunk driver during her senior year of college.  Her doctors had worried the injuries she’d sustained at the time would limit her ability to walk.  But just like Bucky, Natasha’s a fighter, and after months of intensive rehab with Sam, she was able to not only walk but run and jump and dance like she’d never been in traction.  It’s been a few years since the crash, the last twelve months of which Nat had started to work at Rally herself, teaching packed-to-capacity Barre, Pilates and Bosu classes.  And if her own recovery wasn’t enough of a persuasive argument, her insistence that Bucky needed to just ‘get out’ and ‘learn how to be around other people again’ may have been the final straw.  He could still hear her words rolling around in his head, _“You’re never going to meet anyone or find yourself a date by making a permanent imprint of your lazy ass in the cushions of your couch!”_

“Excuse me sir.  Good morning!” the effusive, blonde receptionist called, pulling Bucky abruptly out of his thoughts.  Her green eyes flicked quickly to the empty left sleeve pinned up to the shoulder of his hoodie before she added a little more subdued, “Welcome to the Rally Wellness Center.  My name is Kylie.  May I help you?”

Bucky pulled the hood back off of his head, scratched his fingernails against the nape of his neck through the tangled, shoulder-length strands of his dark, wavy hair, and offered a small, nervous smile in return.  “I, um, have a ten o’clock appointment with Sam Wilson.”

The woman looked down at her computer monitor, scanning the screen for confirmation.

“Ah, here we go.  James Barnes?”

Bucky nodded.  Kylie picked up the phone receiver presumably to call Sam and let him know his client had arrived when a door to the left of the glass wall opened up.

Sam jogged briskly over meet him, a warm, gap-toothed smile on his face and his hand extended in greeting.  As he took Bucky’s right hand in his own, he covered them both together with his left as they shook.

“Hey James.  Sam Wilson.  Nice to meet you, man.”

“Please, I prefer Bucky.  And it’s nice to finally meet you too.  Natasha’s told me so much about you.”

“Only the good things I hope.”

“Based on what I’ve heard, I half expected to see wings on your back and a halo over your head,” Bucky joked.

“Is that right?” Sam asked with a look of genuine surprise as he released his grip.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied tentatively, suddenly worried he’d revealed some kind of unknown secret.  “Says you’re the best in the business.”

Sam smiled broadly again.  “Well, she’s not wrong,” he teased.  “You know, I don’t buy that woman coffee every damn day just because I’ve got a little stock in Starbucks,” he added.  “Her endorsements come with a price!”

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk.  Natasha had never mentioned that little detail.

“C’mon man, let me give you the grand tour.”

***

As Bucky followed Sam through the club, he was hit with a fresh wave of anxiety as he felt the curious, pitying, and more-than-likely unintentional stares from the gym’s other patrons.  Not that he could really blame any of them for doing it.  If the shoe were on the other foot, he’s pretty sure he’d do the same thing… just human nature he supposed.  And he really should be used to it by now—it happened everyday he walked down the street or rode on the subway.  But here, in this place, surrounded by fit, athletic, healthy people, he felt more self-conscious than usual.  Just when he felt his heartbeat start to pick up the pace and the sweat begin to bead on his brow, he was literally knocked out of his burgeoning panic attack by two strong, slender arms suddenly wrapping around his middle from behind.

“Gotcha!” Natasha shouted as she tightened her embrace.

Bucky huffed out a sigh of surprise, sounding like he’d just had the wind punched from his lungs.  Natasha slowly untwined her arms, gave her friend a sweet peck on the cheek and stepped around to face him.

“I am so sorry I’m late… I couldn’t find my keys.  Tore my apartment completely apart trying to find ‘em and they were in my fuckin’ coat pocket the entire time!”

Sam and Bucky both just chuckled and shook their heads amusedly.

“So, anyway whatdya think of the place?” she asked Bucky as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet.

“It’s even nicer than you described,” he replied.  “And so is Sam,” he added giving the other man a sidelong glance and one raised brow.

Sam’s soft brown cheeks flushed dark with embarrassment as he gave Bucky a light punch on the shoulder.

“Aw, c’mon man.  Does this mean I gotta start payin’ you off with overpriced coffee now too?”

Then it was Natasha’s turn to give Sam a punch.

“Hey!” she pouted, “And here I thought my daily macchiato was given purely out of love.”

Feigning offence, Natasha turned on her heel and started to stomp away.

“Don’t be like that baby girl!” Sam called after her.  “You know I got nothing but love…”

Natasha whirled back around with a wink and a smile.  “Better make it a _Grande_ today then if you really wanna make it up to me Wilson.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam replied.  “Fat free, extra foam…I’m on it.”

She gave a nod to Bucky as she turned to head up a flight of stairs, “I’ve gotta teach a class.  See you after okay?”

Bucky nodded and smiled, “Yeah, okay.”

Breathing easier, Bucky listened intently as Sam resumed their tour through the well-appointed health club.  The cardio area was stocked with orderly rows of state-of-the-art treadmills, stair climbers, elliptical trainers, and stationary bikes.  All facing out toward the crowded streets below through the massive window walls that formed the frame of the room.  The weight room on the opposite side of the floor was filled with an abundant mixture of both free weights and nautilus-style machines.  The group fitness rooms, with their shock-absorbing, hard wood floors were all located on the floor above while the surprisingly lavish locker rooms and showers were located on the floor below.  Bucky was impressed by both the facility and Sam’s obvious knowledge and passion for the place and his work.

When they finished the tour, Sam brought Bucky to his small, private office adjacent to the main lobby.

“Nat’s class’ll be over soon.  Take a walk with me to Starbucks?” he asked.

“Sure,” Bucky agreed.

“Thanks.  I’d like to talk about how we might work together as we walk if that’s alright,” Sam said, pulling a dark red windbreaker over his head.

“I know,” Sam said as he gestured towards Bucky’s barren sleeve.  “Actually, scratch that.  I _don’t_ know nor can I possibly ever imagine what it must’ve been like to have your arm one day and then have it just be fucking gone the next.  I’m really sorry that happened to you brother.”

Bucky shrugged.  “Thanks man.  Yeah… I mean it hasn’t exactly been easy but, ya know… shit happens.  I’m just glad to be breathing.”  Bucky paused a moment.  “And I’m glad Natasha hounded me to come here today.”

Sam shot Bucky another mega-watt smile as he clapped a hand on the brunet’s broad back.  “I can just tell we’re gonna get on like a house on fire.  Now come on.  Coffee.  My treat.”

“Sam you don’t have to do that…” Bucky began to protest.

“I know I don’t _have_ to do anything James,” Sam goaded.

“Oh, so that’s how it is?” Bucky challenged.

“Yeah, that’s how it is,” Sam retorted with a laugh.  “Now, less talkin’ and more walkin’ soldier.  If I’m not waitin’ outside her door when that class ends with a steaming hot, _Grande_ macchiato, it’s gonna be my nuts on the line!”

“She can be ruthless,” Bucky sighed in acknowledgement as the two men strolled amiably back through the lobby and out into the cold, October air.


	2. Collision Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky is a beautiful klutz and Steve is well, Steve. (Sighs dreamily).

Bucky returned to Rally on Monday morning ready to work.  He and Sam had decided over coffee that it’d be best to ease him into a routine at the club.  Start with the basics… work on improving his stamina and balance.  He’d been pretty sedentary following his reconstructive surgeries and required physical therapy sessions.  And while it was fortunate that his prized job as a graphic designer for SHIELD Marketing wasn’t physically demanding, working on his computer for hours on end, often from the comfort of his own home, did little to encourage him to be more active.  That Bucky-shaped imprint in his couch cushions was carefully crafted over a period of many torpid months.  Still, Bucky had always been naturally athletic and blessed with the physique of a competitive swimmer – long and lean and firm.  Though he’d lost some of the obvious bulk and definition he’d had as an active duty soldier, he was still fairly trim and fit.  Or at least that’s what he’d thought...

Ten minutes into his baseline fitness assessment on the treadmill and Bucky was both appalled and embarrassed by his apparent inability to jog and talk at the same time.  He was gasping for breath and sweating profusely, his snug fitting t-shirt sticking to his hot, damp skin.  The timed climb up two flights of club stairs left him feeling even worse.  It was a good thing he’d been gripping the hand rail as he nearly tripped on the final step up onto the landing.  He was completely out of breath and more than a little shocked at just how weak his legs felt as the muscles in his tired thighs throbbed in protest.

“Shit,” Bucky wheezed as he hunched over, bracing his right hand on his knee to keep from toppling over.  “I’m a… _gasp…_ a fuckin’ dough ball.”

Sam chuckled and clapped a hand on Bucky’s lower back before reaching for the pen tucked securely behind his ear to scratch some notes on the papers attached to the clipboard he was carrying.

“Nah, don’t be so hard on yourself man.  You’re just a lil’ rusty is all.”

Bucky stood up, chest still heaving hard and rolled his eyes.  The ragged sounds of his labored breathing were suddenly interrupted by a loud click and a shrill voice over the loudspeaker.  _“Sam Wilson, please report to the front desk.  Thank you.”_

Sam pointed with his pen towards the water fountain down the hall.  “Why don’t you rehydrate and take a breather there Sarge?  Gotta say ‘hi’ to the new trainer starting today.  Be right back, okay?”

Bucky nodded, thankful for the break, and turned down the hall.  As he approached the door to Nat’s Barre class, it suddenly swung open and a bevy of beautiful, chatty women began to pour out of the room, literally enveloping the winded brunet and stopping him in his trek to the fountain.  He squeezed his eyes shut tight and stood stock still as the preoccupied ladies inadvertently jostled into him, intentionally unaware of both the curious and appreciative glances being thrown his way.  He took a deep, calming breath and waited for the class to empty, grounding himself in the sound of his own heartbeat as the din of the ladies’ animated voices slowly began to fade.

“Bucky?” Natasha asked, her voice laced with concern.

He blinked his eyes open and looked dazedly at his friend.

“You okay babe?” she asked, gently sweeping a sweat-soaked lock of his hair out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear.

“Um, yeah,” he replied sighing heavily.  “Just trying to catch my breath.”

He shook his head slightly and took the last few steps to the fountain, dipping his head down to draw a few long sips from the cool, refreshing arc.

As he stood up, the curtain of dark, wavy hair that had fallen in front of his eyes drew back, revealing Natasha by his side, her arms folded casually across her chest.

“Have a good class?” he asked as he wiped the dribble of water that was running down his chin away with the back of his hand.

“I did.  You should come in sometime and try it,” she replied with a smile.  “It’ll do wonders for your glutes.”

“Didn’t see any guys makin’ their way outta your class,” Bucky said as he gestured towards the now empty room.  “I really don’t wanna stick out any more than I already do.”

Natasha shrugged her shoulders and let her arms drop down to her sides as she turned to go back into the room and gather her things.  “Well, you also didn’t see the way a few of my regulars were checking you out just now.  Like a bunch of hungry lions staring down a damn steak dinner.”

Bucky snorted as he followed her into the large, bright, mirror-walled room, “Yeah, right.  Might be time to get your eyes checked Romanoff.”

He stopped in the middle of the room, seemingly caught off guard by the unavoidable sight of his transformed reflection.  Like everyone else, his own eyes were impulsively drawn to the vacant shirt sleeve hanging loosely from his left shoulder as he tipped his head to the side, and furrowed his brows in what looked a lot like confusion.  Some days he really felt as though his eyes were playing tricks on him.  His brain refused to reconcile that the incomplete body in the mirror before him was actually his own.

Natasha noticed the lost look in her friend’s eyes as she stuffed a towel into her oversized backpack and briskly zipped it closed.

“Actually, my vision is perfect and your eyes were _closed_ at the time, so I guess you’re just going to have to take my word for it,” she replied as she grabbed the bag by one strap and slung it over her shoulder.

Bucky forced his gaze to the floor as they turned to leave the room together.  Sighing loudly, he replied, “You know, if they _were_ staring Nat it was only because… “

“Stop!” Natasha said suddenly whirling around to step in front of Bucky, her fierce green eyes staring intensely into his own surprised steel-blue orbs.  “I know what I saw okay?  They weren’t looking at you like a wounded animal or a broken toy.  They were looking at you like they wanted to eat you alive or fuck you six ways ‘til Sunday.  Probably both.”

Bucky couldn’t help the grin that started to tug at the corner of his cupid’s bow lips.  Natasha returned the smile as she stepped aside, bumping shoulders with him.

“Not the first time in our long and questionable history together that I’ve seen people look at you like that ya know?  It’s a pretty common occurrence.  You’re as handsome and charming as ever Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as they made their way towards the door.

“Call me crazy,” she continued, “but it might be a little hard to spot someone you might be interested in yourself if you don’t keep your fucking eyes open.  I mean literally!”

“Are you done yet?” he asked with a chuckle.  “Because I came here to work my ass off, not get it chewed out by you.”

Natasha shook her head and flipped the light switches off.  “Yeah, yeah, yeah… one of these days you’ll thank me for it.  You know I only give you shit because I care about you so much.”

Bucky huffed in a way that clearly spoke _“as if”_ as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time.  He stepped out of the room with his head bowed down, and walked smack-dab into the path of a mid-stride stranger.

He stumbled forward gracelessly and crashed face first into what he soon figured out was a slab of solid pectoral muscle.  In an effort to stay standing at all, he dropped his phone from his now flailing hand, and blindly grabbed for purchase.  His fingers found the stability he sought around a sizeable, firm bicep in the same moment that he felt two large, warm hands gently grab hold of his hips to help stay his still swaying body.

When Bucky finally felt as though the floor had stopped moving under his feet, he took a deep breath and _good lord did this human equivalent of a walking brick wall smell good… like Ivory Soap and Old Spice.  Clean, and masculine, and…_

“Whoa…” the aromatic stranger said with a quiet laugh.  “Are you okay?”

Bucky had just opened his mouth to begin apologizing profusely for being such a distracted dumbass when he’d apparently lost his ability to speak.  Struck utterly wordless as he took in the sight of the man he’d just plowed into.  This guy was fucking _gorgeous_.  Bucky unconsciously licked his lips as his eyes roamed over the stranger’s striking features.  Brilliant, sky-blue eyes that sparkled like the sea on a sunny day and a perfectly straight nose perched above full, pink lips.  His skin was smooth and lightly tanned, making his short, flaxen hair look like a golden halo on his head.  It was product-free and looked downy soft and Bucky had to repress the sudden urge to reach up and card his fingers through it just to see if it really was.

And then there was his body…  _Damn._ Big, broad shoulders that tapered down to a firm, narrow waist.  Bucky could only imagine the sculpted abs that must certainly be concealed beneath the skin tight t-shirt the guy had on.  No wonder Bucky couldn’t talk, he’d just collided with a fucking Abercrombie model.  Truth be told, he was kind of surprised he was still breathing.  And since his silent pleas for the floor to open up and swallow him whole were seemingly going to go unanswered, he opened his mouth again in a second attempt to offer some sort of apology.  Before he could form the words though, the other man looked at him contritely and beat him to the punch.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” he said as a faint blush crept up his neck and seeped into his cheeks.  “I really should watch where I’m goin’.”

Bucky’s unwillingness to let the beautiful stranger take the blame for his clumsy stupidity finally gave strength to his voice.

“What?  No!  I’m the clumsy idiot who walked into you…” he started when the blond finally dropped his hands from Bucky’s hips and backed up enough to extend his hand.

“Steve Rogers,” he said flashing an incredibly perfect smile.  Bucky thought he wouldn’t mind staring at that smile all day.  And so he was.  Staring.  Again.  Bucky shook his hand and returned the smile, his wits finally coming back to him as he heard Sam’s genial voice coming towards them from the direction of the stairs.

“I see you’ve met my friend and latest victim, er, I mean client, Bucky,” Sam teased.

Steve nodded, still beaming brightly and said, “Yeah, we just ran into each other.  Nice to meet you Bucky.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.  “Same here,” he replied somewhat distractedly as he began to scan the floor around them seeking out his likely broken phone.

“Looking for this?” Natasha asked with a smirk as she handed him the amazingly intact and apparently undamaged device.

“Damn, I can’t believe it’s not busted,” Bucky marveled, turning the phone over in his hand to fully inspect it.

“Yeah… must be your lucky day,” Natasha replied drolly as she extended her hand and a warm smile of her own to Steve.

“Natasha Romanoff.  Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks,” Steve answered appreciatively.  “Sam was just telling me about some of your amazing classes.  I’d love to give your Pilates a try sometime but I hear it’s pretty packed.”

“It is indeed,” Natasha smirked smugly.  “But I think I can squeeze you in… one of the perks of the job.”

“Besides,” Sam added, “It wouldn’t hurt for you to experience some of the club’s top offerings first-hand so you can make informed recommendations as you advise your clients.”

“Well, then,” Natasha said as she turned towards the stairs, “Guess I’ll be seein’ ya around.”  She turned her attention to Sam.  “You done with him for the day?” she asked glancing over at Bucky.

“Ah hell no,” Sam chuckled.  “We’re just gettin’ started!”

Bucky sighed loudly and rolled his head in a loose circle around his shoulders, readying his already tired muscles for whatever Sam had in store for him.

“Nat, do me a favor and take our newest trainer down to HR please so they can make sure he can get into the club and get paid while he’s at it?”

“Sure thing,” Natasha replied.  “And, go easy on him Sam,” she added with a nod towards Bucky.  “I wanna make sure he comes back.”

“Oh don’t you worry.  I’ll take real good care of your boy here,” Sam replied with a big grin and a wink as he placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and shook him playfully.

Steve glanced quickly between Bucky and Natasha before turning to join her.  As he walked away, Bucky couldn’t help but watch him go, his eyes stealing the quickest glimpse at what had to be the most flawlessly hard, round, little ass he’d ever seen in his life.  He pinched his eyes shut tight and scrubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to fight the flow of blood that was suddenly coursing south in his body as he imagined what that glorious backside might look like bare.

“Steve, I’ll catch up with you later man,” Sam called before turning back to Bucky.  “You ready to get back to work soldier?”

Bucky rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling and exhaled loudly.  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he answered tentatively.

“Alright then,” Sam said enthusiastically.  “Let’s do this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments really keep me going... thanks so much for reading!


	3. Feel the Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's body burns and aches from being challenged, making him feel alive and hopeful. Things are stirring below the belt too as his instant infatuation with Steve Rogers grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hearts Day all! Sorry it took so long to update but I hope you enjoy it! Hugs XD

Two hours later, Bucky left the club freshly showered, a little tired, somewhat sore, and completely exhilarated.  As he wove his way through the teeming city sidewalks, he couldn’t contain the bounce in his step.  Sam had pushed him, tested his limits and he’d risen to the challenge.  He reveled in the burning pull he felt in his quads and calves with each step he took down to the subway platform.  He felt alive and optimistic as he stepped into the crowded, standing-room-only car.  Bucky pressed into the throng and soon found himself inadvertently slotted next to a tall, blond businessman in a sharp navy suit.  Natasha wasn’t kidding earlier when she’d said it must’ve been his lucky day.  But as Bucky exchanged a flirty smile with the good-looking executive by his side, his mind wandered back to another handsome blond he’d brushed up against that day.  Steve’s brilliant blue eyes, that rock hard body, his intoxicating smell… fuck.  He shook his head and scanned the crowded car searching for something, anything to take his mind off of the unfairly attractive trainer.  His eyes finally landed on older man seated in the corner who was unabashedly picking his nose.  And just like he hoped, Bucky’s growing erection slowly started to flag.

As the train lurched forward and pulled away from the station, Bucky realized that it wasn’t just his idle muscles he’d re-awakened that morning in the club.  His spectacularly embarrassing collision with Steve had stirred thoughts in his brain and roused feelings in his body he hadn’t expected nor experienced in a very long time.  Perhaps it was the shock from their sudden, intense run-in or (more likely) the way Steve had reacted to it—so kind and gentle and caring.  Whatever the cause, the effect was the same.  Their brief encounter had left Bucky completely breathless and wanting.  It’d stoked a fire in his belly that he’d seriously worried had gone out for good.

Despite Natasha’s friendly encouragement, Bucky had literally lost all interest in dating after he’d come back home.  And the last ‘serious’ relationship he’d had before shipping out was with a woman who’d had a hard time accepting the uncertainty and inevitable anxiety that came with loving a soldier.  Since then… well, Bucky had spent so much time trying to heal physically and emotionally, to feel comfortable again in his own skin, that he never would’ve even considered dragging someone else along for that hellish ride.  So, while he was relieved to discover that his libido wasn’t completely dead and that maybe— _just maybe_ —he was finally ready to open himself up to another, he also lamented that his attentions were now being wildly misdirected.  There was really no use in getting all worked up over a totally hot, seemingly nice dude who’d _never_ be interested in guys at all, let alone a broken guy like Bucky.

By the time the car rolled to Bucky’s stop in Brooklyn, the natural high he’d been riding when he’d first left Rally had all but evaporated.  Having decidedly stuck a fork in his new-found fantasy during the ride home had only seemed to exacerbate the situation.  Suddenly the soreness in his worn-out muscles seemed to seep down deep into his bones as he limped up the final few stairs to the third floor of his apartment building and shuffled stiffly down the hall to his unit.  He breathed a sigh of relief once inside, leaning his back against the now closed door to kick off his shoes.  Bucky knew from experience that this was just the beginning.  The dull aches he felt right now would amplify in strength over the next several hours as his muscles balked at the shock of real exertion.

He pushed off the door with a dramatic groan and made his way to his small but functional bathroom, yanking open the door to the medicine cabinet that was hidden behind his mirror.  He scanned the narrow, densely packed shelves in search of something to ease the oncoming pain, finding everything from vitamins to Vicodin lined up in a row—the latter left over and long expired from his early post-op days.  Bucky made a mental note to properly dispose of the past due prescription as he continued his search.  He snorted with laughter when he finally found the ibuprofen he’d been seeking sitting next to another lonely and long-forgotten bottle—this one half-full of lube.  He seriously couldn’t remember the last time he’d used it.  Maybe it too had expired along with his sex life so many moons ago.

Bucky shook his head at the as he grabbed the already-opened pill bottle from the shelf and made yet another mental note to thank Natasha again for being the best fucking friend a guy could ask for.  A week before he’d been released from the hospital, Natasha went to Bucky’s apartment and walked around in it with her left arm tucked firmly behind her back.  She attempted all kinds of mundane tasks—washing the dishes, making a sandwich, opening a beer—using only her right hand.  One full, frustrating day later and Natasha had at least _some_ understanding and a sincere appreciation of the kinds of daily challenges her friend would have ahead of him.  She then spent the next two days making little changes she thought might help.  She installed a wall mounted bottle opener on the doorframe next to his fridge, replaced all of the condiment containers and jars in the whole place with squeezable, flip-top plastic bottles, and she loosened or removed all of the child-proof caps on the pill bottles lining his medicine cabinet.  He had no kids to be concerned about and some of those fuckers were already damn near impossible to open with two hands on a good day.

Bucky plugged the drain in the sink before shaking two tablets out onto the edge of the clean, white porcelain basin.  He pocketed the pills and went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.  Feeling the tightness starting to pull like a bowstring in his thighs as he crossed the room, Bucky sank down slowly onto his beloved, oversized, black leather sofa.  He sandwiched the water bottle between his knees, twisted off the cap and tossed it onto the table.  He drank more than half of the bottle down in two long gulps before setting it down to dig the pills out of his pocket and pop them in his mouth.  Even though it’d be a while before the meds kicked in, Bucky already felt a sense of relief wash over him.  He was swallowing down the rest of his water when his phone began ringing loudly in his pocket.  He knew from the familiar ‘Black Widow’ ringtone by Cage the Elephant that it was Natasha calling.

“Hey Nat,” he answered, slumping down further into the comfortable cushions.

“Well, you’re still alive so I guess Sam took it easy on you today,” she teased.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled.  “I’m still here.”

“Seriously, how are you feeling?” she asked sincerely.

“Good… I mean I’m a little sore but I like it.  If that makes any sense...” he trailed off.

“Yup.  I know what you mean,” Natasha replied.  Of course she did.  “That’s good.  Guess that means you’ll be back tomorrow then?”

“Assuming I don’t seize up in a state of total rigor mortis while I sleep?  Yes, I’ll be there with bells on.”

Natasha barked a loud laugh.  “Take two Advil and call me in the morning if you have an angular chalk outline drawn around the shape of your awkwardly posed body.”

“Done and done,” Bucky said with a chuckle.

“Oh, and the bells?  Not such a bad idea for you Barnes.  Might’ve given our new trainer Steve a little more warning before you plowed into him today.  Wasn’t I _just_ saying something to you about keeping your eyes open like thirty seconds earlier?  Hmmm?”

Bucky groaned and scrubbed his hand down his face.  “Don’t remind me,” he huffed.  “I think I’m gonna go on that note.  I have a new brochure design due on Thursday and I haven’t even gotten started on it yet.  Thanks for checkin’ on me Nat.  I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Natasha giggled softly and replied, “Okay.  See you tomorrow.”

***

Bucky walked into the club the next day feeling tender but not too pained and a hell of a lot less anxious than he’d been just 24 hours ago.  He even smiled sweetly at Kylie as he swiped his membership card, causing the cheerful receptionist to faintly blush as she greeted him.  “Good morning, Mr. Barnes.  Sam’s waiting for you in his office.”  Bucky answered, “Good morning Kylie.  And please, from now on just call me Bucky okay?”  Kylie’s eyes sparkled as she smiled again coyly and nodded.  “Okay… Bucky,” she said like she was savoring his name on the tip of her tongue.  “Have a good workout!” she called as he disappeared from the lobby and into the bustling gym.

The door to Sam’s office was open and Bucky could hear voices and laughter coming from inside as he approached.  He stopped just outside and rapped his knuckles loudly on the doorframe before peaking his head into the room.  Sam was seated behind his desk, tilting back casually in his ergonomic office chair with an amused expression on his face and a lingering smile on his lips.  Natasha was seated across from him in one of the two chairs stationed in front of the desk sipping slowly from her macchiato.

“Hey man!” Sam greeted as he stood up and extended his hand to Bucky.  “Glad you came back.”

Bucky smiled as he plopped his bag down onto the chair next to Natasha.  “Don’t think she’d give me much of a choice in the matter do ya?” he replied nodding in Natasha’s direction.

Natasha got up and wrapped her arms around Bucky, giving him a playful hug.

“Don’t suppose so,” Sam answered warmly.  “So, how are you feeling today Sarge?”

Bucky shifted on his feet as he answered.  “A little sore but not too bad.”

“Good,” Sam said.  “Why don’t you go throw your stuff in a locker and head over to the treadmills?  Want to warm those muscles up nice and slow before we get to work.  Meet ya there in a few minutes okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky answered as he picked up his bag.  “See ya later Nat.”

“Wait!” Natasha called stopping Bucky in his tracks.  “I almost forgot,” she said reaching down deep into her bag.  She pulled something out in her tightened fist.  “Put out your hand and close your eyes,” she insisted excitedly.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her suspiciously but did as she asked.  He felt something cold, and round being placed in his large, warm palm.  “Okay,” she said, “you can open your eyes now.”

Bucky looked down to see a large, silver jingle bell attached to a shiny, red string cradled in his hand.

Natasha giggled as she got up to leave.  “Be careful out there today,” she joked.

Sam looked between them confusedly, then just rolled his eyes.  Bucky couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his chest.  “Real funny, Nat,” he huffed as he shoved the bell deep into front pocket of his track pants.  “Real funny.”

***

Bucky looked down at the busy streets below as he took long, careful strides on the treadmill’s spinning belt.  The music pumping through his headphones provided an upbeat cadence for his fluid steps, effectively blocking out the world around him.  That was until he’d suddenly noticed through his peripheral vision that someone had hopped onto the previously vacant treadmill to his left and was already jogging at a brisk pace.  Curious, Bucky mustered the courage and coordination to steal a sidelong glance at his new neighbor and felt his heart skip a beat when he glimpsed 6’2” of blond perfection striding gracefully by his side.  He tightened his grip on the front handrail to keep himself steady and forced his eyes forward once again.  “Shit,” he whispered far too quietly for anyone to hear over the hum of the equipment.

The flare of heat he felt spreading through his body just by from being in proximity to this guy was goddamn ridiculous.  He might as well be back in high school, driven into a testosterone-fueled tizzy every time his unattainable crush walked into the room.  At least he was better at hiding his attraction now than he was back then when he was just a hornier-than-hell, doe-eyed teenager.  If nothing else, years in the military had taught him discipline and restraint.  He wasn’t even going to look over in his direction again.  See?  Restraint.

Not two seconds later he saw a hand wave in front of him from over his left shoulder.  When he looked over he was greeted by Steve’s dazzling smile.  He was moving his mouth with an amused expression on his face but Bucky couldn’t hear a word he was saying with the music still blaring in his ears.  He yanked the buds out quickly and looked at Steve apologetically.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked

Steve kept grinning at him, never breaking stride.  “I said, do you always jingle when you walk?”

Then Bucky heard it, the bell he’d shoved in his pocket was faintly ringing with every step he took.  Bucky felt the heat of his blush flood his cheeks as he internally cursed Natasha.  “Oh sorry, I, uh forgot it was in my pocket,” he said pulling the silver bell out, holding it up to show an obviously amused Steve. 

“A gift from Nat,” he explained as he flicked his eyes quickly over Steve’s flexing muscles.  “So you’d know when I’m coming.”  Steve raised an eyebrow at him and smirked mischievously.  When Bucky realized how lewd that sounded he tried again, “I mean so you could hear me coming.”  Steve, the little shit, actually started to laugh.  “Shit!” Bucky cursed, “I mean…”

“You might want to quit while you’re _not_ ahead there Tinkerbell,” Sam called with a chuckle as he walked up behind them.  Bucky glared at his trainer.  “Call me that again and I’ll knock _you_ in the head.”

Sam put his hands up in surrender, “At ease soldier.  I won’t do it again.”  Bucky grumbled and tossed the offending bell to Sam.

“Oh yeah, Steve your 10:00 is here,” Sam added.

“Okay, thanks,” Steve replied.  He notched the speed down on his treadmill and slowed to a walk for a few steps before stopping completely.  He grabbed his towel and water bottle, tilting his head back to take a few draws of his drink.  Bucky glanced over and found himself swallowing too as he watched Steve wrap his lips around the mouth of the bottle, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each gulp.  As Steve turned to leave, he flicked his towel playfully towards Bucky’s ass, barely making contact.  “See ya later,” he said still smirking at the brunet.  “Sam you mind?” he asked pointing towards the treadmill he’d been using.

“Nah man, I got it.  You go on… don’t wanna keep Sharon waiting,” Sam answered with a wink as he grabbed the spray and a couple of paper towels to wipe down Steve’s machine.

Bucky had a hard time focusing during the rest of his session with Sam.  Every time he turned around, he saw Steve.  Smiling and laughing with his absolutely stunning client, Sharon.  She was shamelessly flirting, tossing her long, wavy blonde hair off of her shoulders as she smiled sensually at Steve from under mascara-lengthened eyelash fans.  Bucky couldn’t stifle the baseless feelings of jealousy and anger that twisted in his gut as he watched the fit and wily woman feign ignorance in how to use each piece of equipment as it resulted in Steve putting his hands on her to help position her body or point out which muscles were being worked.

Halfway through a set of leg presses, Bucky audibly scoffed at the woman’s obvious theatrics.  “Fuckin’ bitch,” he whispered under his breath as he gritted his teeth and extended his now trembling legs through the twelfth repetition in the set.

“Come on Buck.  Push through it… you got this,” Sam encouraged, assuming Bucky’s muttered curse was related to his building fatigue.

Bucky listened to Sam and channeled his unfounded envy and mounting sexual frustration into his session.  Every time he heard Sharon giggle, he dug a little deeper, grunting through each exercise with palpable determination.  Once or twice he thought he’d caught Steve watching him from across the room but he was too afraid to glance over and confirm his suspicions.  By the time his hour with Sam was up, he was breathing hard and drenched with sweat.

“That was _inspired_ dude!”  Sam praised.  _You have no idea,_ Bucky thought.

“I’m proud of you Sarge.  Now c’mon… let’s go stretch you real good before you hit the showers.”

***

Bucky stood motionless like a statue in the surprisingly-spacious-for-a-locker-room shower stall.  A steady stream of steaming hot water drummed down over his head, pasting his dark, wavy, shoulder-length hair to his neck and shoulders.  He was in absolutely no hurry to get out with a limitless supply of near-scalding water and a torrent of pressure that made his shower at home feel like a broken water fountain, trickling weakly in comparison.  Besides, the pounding, hot pressure was doing wonders for his weary muscles.  He vaguely heard other men going in and out of the adjacent stalls to shower quickly and efficiently while Bucky lingered, completely losing track of time as the billowing steam clouds completely enveloped him like a warm, misty blanket.  It was only when he happened to notice that his fingertips were nearly deformed, the skin raised in a miniature topography of pale, white ripples that he finally turned the water off and reached for his towel.

He scrubbed the fluffy white cloth over his hair before wiping down the rest of his body as best he could.  It wasn’t really possible to wrap a towel around his waist with only one hand so he opted instead to just bunch the bath towel in front of his junk as he walked quickly bare-assed back his locker.  He’d just managed to pull his black boxer briefs up over his still-damp thighs and hips when he was stunned stupid by the sight of a nearly naked Steve Rogers coming around the corner.  _H-o-l-y fuck._   Like a scene unfolding from some hot music video, time seemed to warp in Bucky’s brain, desperate to capture this image of Steve striving towards him in glorious slow motion.  The brunet’s lips parted in appreciative awe as his eyes fixed on the dripping wet blond, towel slung dangerously low around his hips.  Beads of water dribbled down from Steve’s thick, broad shoulders before trailing down between his full, hard pecs and over an impressive pattern of pronounced scar tissue.  Bucky blinked once as if he’d imagined the precisely placed, reddened lines and dots that marred the center of the other man’s chest.  He suddenly felt a tinge of sharp pain pulse in his own left shoulder—a sign of solidarity for unsolicited suffering.  Bucky didn’t flinch or stare at the now-healed skin, knowing full well what it felt like to be gawked at like a sideshow attraction.  Instead he let his eyes follow the still fresh rivulets of water as they rolled into the deep grooves that separated the smooth panels of Steve’s hard, defined abdominal muscles before sliding down the V-shaped plane that pointed towards his pelvis before finally being absorbed by the edge of the fortunate towel.  Bucky instinctively licked his lips as he imagined laying Steve out before him, lapping up every last delicious, soap-flavored drop with his tongue.  He was so mesmerized by the walking wet dream before him that he didn’t even see the way Steve’s eyes roamed inquisitively over his own mostly bare body in return.

“Hey Bucky,” Steve said casually as he unlocked the door to the numbered cedar-door cabinet on the opposite wall right across the way.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky replied, his voice coming out a bit more strained than he expected as he yanked his clean t-shirt over his dripping locks and down over his body.  He sat on the bench to hold his deodorant between his knees before popping the lid off.  He purposefully turned his back to the other man while he reached under his shirt to work the antiperspirant onto the skin under his arms.

“Have a good session with Sam?” Steve asked as he pulled his gym bag out of the locker and placed it on the bench next to Bucky.

“Um, yeah… thanks,” he answered hesitantly.  He opened his mouth to say something else when he heard Steve’s wet towel drop to the floor with a heavy thump.  The words got caught in his throat along with his heart as he tried not to think about the fact that Steve was now completely nude just a few feet behind him.  Christ, what had Bucky done recently to deserve this particular brand of torture?  It took every last ounce of his will power and self-restraint to not turn around right that moment to sneak a peek.  He listened for the tell-tale sounds of fabric rustling behind him before he could even find the nerve to open his eyes and start moving again.  He pushed the cap back onto his deodorant, tossing it into his own bag that laid open on the floor by his still-pruny feet.

“Looks like you’re keeping busy,” Bucky finally managed, breaking the awkward silence.

“Yeah, I can’t believe how many of my clients followed me from my old club… kinda crazy,” Steve said humbly, shifting his bag over so he could take a seat right next to Bucky on the long, carpet covered bench.

_Shocking,_ Bucky thought sarcastically, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that Steve was now fully dressed in a pair of charcoal grey sweatpants and a tight white t-shirt, the latter mottled with an array of asymmetrical wet spots that began to expand as the fabric slowly soaked up the droplets he’d been so attentively tracking down Steve’s torso a moment ago.

“That blonde you were workin’ with this mornin’ one of ‘em?” Bucky asked trying to keep his tone light and unaffected as he worked his jeans up his legs.

“Sharon?” Steve replied as he pulled on his socks.  “No.  She actually wanted to work with Sam but his docket’s too full at the moment so the poor gal got stuck with me instead,” he added with a reticent smile.

“Yeah, she seemed totally devastated,” Bucky deadpanned.  Just then, Sam walked in, shaking Bucky’s bell to announce his presence before putting it back in his pocket.

“You’d better not be bad mouthing me Barnes,” Sam joked as he leaned against the locker bank.  “I’m already losing potential clients in droves to this guy right here,” he added with a grin, as he nodded at Steve.

“I can’t help it that you’re too busy to take on anyone else,” Steve smirked.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be in the same boat real soon brother if the number of inquiries we’ve been fielding at the front desk about ‘that hot new trainer’ is anything to go by,” Sam said.

Bucky sighed quietly as he stood to wiggle his jeans up over his hips one side at a time, making it look much easier than it actually was.

“Speaking of being the new guy,” Sam continued, “It’s a club tradition to take new recruits out to do a little ‘team building’ at the local bar down the street on the last day of their first week.  Nothing like bonding over a little bar food and a couple a beers right?”

Steve chuckled as he fastened his watch around his wrist.  “Sounds like a lot of fun.  Thanks, Sam.”

“Great!” Sam said excitedly as he clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly.  “Oh, and by the way, Friday is karaoke night.  So, you boys best be ready to ‘rock the mic like a vandal!’”

Bucky looked up bewildered at his giddy therapist as he proceeded to dance and shake his ass to nothing but the melodic sound of Steve’s hearty laughter.  “Yeah, you heard me Sarge… it’s the end of _your_ first week too.  Your attendance isn’t really ‘optional,’” he added making little air quotations with his fingers.

Bucky shook his head and was about to protest when Sam added, “‘Sides, Nat already has a nice little duet picked out for the two of you.”

Steve bumped Bucky’s right shoulder with his own and gave him the most adorably shy smile he’d ever seen.  “C’mon Buck,” he pleaded while tying his shoelaces.  “You wouldn’t let a fellow soldier charge into battle all alone would you?”

Seriously, Bucky thought that expression should be outlawed because it could be used to-- wait one second.  Did he just say _fellow soldier?_

“No he would not,” Sam answered resolutely before Bucky ever had a chance to.  “And you won’t even have to wear this,” Sam teased as he pulled the little bell out of his pocket again and held it up before tossing it into the brunet’s open bag.

Bucky growled.  “She’s gonna pay for that later.”

“So, that’s settled then,” Sam said as he turned to leave.  Walking away backwards he called, “Enjoy your recovery day tomorrow Bucky and be ready to work twice as hard on Thursday!”

Steve got up, and packed his things back into his locker.  “So if I don’t see you beforehand, guess I’ll see you Friday night then?” he asked Bucky with what looked like (but couldn’t possibly be) a hopeful expression on his face.

“Guess so,” Bucky replied twitching the corner of his lips up in a tiny smile.

***

Later that evening, after Bucky had finished his design work for SHIELD, he shut his laptop down and changed into the most comfortable clothes he owned—a pair of threadbare camouflage sweatpants and an old, faded Green Day concert t-shirt.  The effects from the Advil he’d taken hours ago were starting to wane so he trudged to the bathroom to take another dose before settling down on his sofa for some well-earned rest and relaxation.  He grabbed the fleece blanket from the back of the sofa and nestled down under the downy soft throw.  He turned on the t.v. and lazily flipped through the stations before landing on an episode of Sherlock on BBC.  It wasn’t long before his eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off to sleep.

_“Bucky,” Steve panted, caging the brunet against the locker wall with his strong arms and broad shoulders as he sucked and licked and nipped along the column of Bucky’s neck.  Bucky tipped his head back to give Steve better access, scraping his fingernails through the short, blond hair at the base of the gorgeous trainer’s neck.  Steve was dripping wet from his shower, the towel wrapped loosely around his waist was tenting up impressively as he pressed in closer to the keen brunet.  Bucky pulled his head up to capture those full, pink lips in a bruising kiss as Steve slotted one bare leg between Bucky’s.  Bucky moaned as he tilted his hips forward, relishing the pressure on his own straining hard-on against Steve’s thick, muscled thigh.  Steve’s hands roamed fervently over Bucky’s body as they continued to kiss, exploring each other’s mouths with eager tongues.  Bucky let his hand draw down Steve’s sculpted chest, brushing the pad of his thumb over one pointed nipple and then the other before trailing his fingertips lightly along the long, red scar line that ran through the center of his torso and over his enviable abs.  Steve broke the kiss, panting hard as he stared hungrily at Bucky.  He pulled the towel away from his waist and dropped it to the floor, his lust-blown eyes never leaving Bucky’s.  “Touch me.  Bucky, please…” he begged._

Two loud gun-shots rang out through the television speakers, jerking Bucky suddenly awake.  “Fuck,” he huffed, as he sat up, adjusting the rigid boner that was bulging in his pants.  He had to piss so bad he was like the elevator doors opening in The Shining, if they were filled with urine instead of blood.  Bucky stumbled bleary-eyed to the bathroom.  Pissing with a rock-hard erection was annoying in the best of times.  Managing it one-handed was Next Level Frustrating.  He thought maybe he could wait the hard-on out, but the more he tried to will it soft, the more he thought of the dream that’d caused it, the harder it ultimately got.  He gave up, forced it in the exact opposite direction that it wanted to point, and winced as he realized a urinal wouldn't be the worst investment in the world.  Bucky sighed heavily as he wiped his wildly errant spray off of the back of the toilet and the wall behind it where those first aggressive, wayward streams were now dripping down towards the floor.  Even after cleaning up, his penis was incessantly erect, demanding his attention.

Bucky grabbed a couple of tissues, meandered back to the couch and slouched down into the still-warm cushions.  He turned off the t.v. and pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the coffee table.  He raised his ass up to shove his sweatpants and boxers down to the middle of his tender thighs, his dick getting awkwardly caught in the waistband before springing free and slapping back against his abdomen.  He wasted no time as he wrapped his hand around the shaft near the base and squeezed gently, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to rest it on the back of the sofa.  The dream-induced images of Steve naked and begging for his touch were still vivid in his mind.  Bucky trained his focus on that fleeting fantasy as he began to stroke his fist over his hard, flushed length.  His imagination took over where his dream had left off as he longingly envisioned fulfilling Steve’s whispered plea.  How badly he wanted to reach down between them and grasp Steve’s undoubtedly gorgeous cock, stroking it the same way he was now pleasuring himself.  He pictured the little gasps and breathy noises Steve might make as he twisted his wrist right beneath his swollen cockhead, pausing to brush his thumb over the leaking slit before dragging the glossy pre-cum down over his shaft, instantly easing the glide.  Bucky moaned softly and rocked his hips up, thrusting languidly into his warm, firm grip as he lost himself completely in the fantasy of Steve.

Bucky thought about Steve’s big hands gripping his hips, thumbs rubbing possessively over his protruding hip bones before dipping below the waist band of his shorts to slide them down over the swell of his ass.  He began to jerk his cock harder, his rhythm growing faster as he envisioned Steve’s large hand in place of his own wrapped around his drooling dick.  It’d been so long since he’d thought about another person, let alone another man in this way, wanting so badly to touch and be touched in return.  Bucky could feel that he was getting close, the familiar heat coiling in his belly as he pictured sharing hot, wet, open-mouth kisses with the tall blond against the bank of lockers as they stroked each other with just the right amount of pressure.  He could practically smell Steve’s deliciously clean scent, could taste the salt of his skin on his tongue as he fucked his own fist.  Christ it felt good.  Bucky was panting hard now, nearly dizzy with pleasure as the last thing he thought about before his orgasm took him was just how divine it’d feel to have Steve grabbing both of their aching cocks in one big, calloused hand, rubbing them in tandem until they were both bursting with pleasure.  Bucky pulled two more times and moaned aloud as he came, painting his stomach and chest with spurt after spurt of his thick, hot release.  He loosened his fist but continued to rub himself lightly through the aftershocks.  It was the most intense orgasm he’d had in months.  When he was no longer too sensitive to do it, he squeezed his thumb and finger tightly around the base, dragging them up towards his messy tip one last time, milking the last drops out onto his hand.  He grabbed the tissues and laid them on his stomach, wiping his hand as best he could before mopping up the rest of his now cooling cum.

Bucky pulled his shirt back on and stretched like a cat as he yawned long and loud.  He was officially spent.  And although he was looking forward to having the next day off from the club to let his body recover per Sam’s instructions, he was also a little sad that he wouldn’t be seeing his friends.  And yeah, if he was being totally honest he’d miss seeing Steve.  He knew he should probably be feeling a little guilty about having jerked off to the thought of fucking Steve Rogers, but he felt so relaxed right now he simply couldn’t seem to muster a lick of remorse.  He didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell romantically or sexually with the guy anyway—especially not with the buxom likes of Sharon or the countless others Sam had mentioned waiting in the wings—so what harm was there really in indulging a little fantasy?  Come to think of it, for all he or anyone else knew, Steve might already be off the market… his warm heart and hard body already belonging to another.  Regardless, at least now Bucky felt like maybe he’d gotten the whole notion out of his system.  Along with the jizz that was now drying and crusty in a wad of soiled tissues by his side.  He breathed a sigh of relief, the slate was wiped clean.  Bucky would go back to Rally on Thursday anew, with a singular focus on his own health and wellness.  That’s why he was going there after all.  Everything else was just an added bonus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come if you all are interested. Let me know what you think! Your comments are like the best Valentines ever!! Thanks!


	4. All Mixed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Team Building time at the bar. Drinking and dart games and flirting... oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry it has taken me so long to get this update ready and posted. I went on a computer and internet-free vacation weeks ago and had a hard time getting back in the groove when I got home. Hope you enjoy this chapter... more to come I promise!

Bucky’s “rest day” turned out to be anything but.  He worked all day and well into the evening Wednesday finishing up the brochure design that was due for work the next day.  Being hunched over his laptop for hours on end only served to intensify the aches and pains he was already feeling following his unexpectedly intensive workout the previous day.  When his alarm clock so rudely startled him from his sleep early Thursday morning, he begrudgingly dragged his sorry ass out of bed to get ready for his impending workout.  As he shuffled towards the kitchen to make a cup of coffee he heard the ominous tones of the “Halloween,” soundtrack emanating from his phone.  It was the ringtone he’d assigned for his ambitious, hard-nosed and unequivocally intimidating boss, Nick Fury.

Apparently impressed with the work Bucky had submitted the evening before, his boss thought it’d be a good opportunity for the young designer to present his completed project to the marketing department himself rather than Nick doing it as he usually did.  Bucky wasn’t really too keen on the idea of heading into the office that day to present his design with no prior preparation but he also wasn’t really in a position to say “No.”  So, he answered with as much feigned enthusiasm as he could muster.

“It’d be an honor Mr. Fury.  Thank you for the opportunity.  I’ll see you soon.”  When the call ended, he immediately dialed up the club to let Sam know he wouldn’t be able to make it to their scheduled session.  Although Bucky felt terrible about cancelling at the last minute, Sam was unsurprisingly cool about it, telling Bucky in his usual warm, friendly voice not to ‘sweat it’ and that they’d make up for it the following day.  So, Bucky unhappily traded his t-shirt and track pants for a pair of dress pants and a button down oxford before he headed for the shower.

The presentation went better than Bucky expected.  He’d been pretty anxious in the beginning, feeling more self-conscious than ever of the neatly pressed sleeve pinned up to his left shoulder.  Bucky’s worries were for naught as his colleagues were nothing but respectful, focusing on what the designer had to say, taking notes and asking appropriate questions along the way.  As the meeting wore on, his confidence grew and Bucky relaxed into his role, making a few innocuous jokes and charming the room with his charismatic smile.  The brunet knew he’d hit the mark when his notoriously hard-to-please, eternally expressionless boss actually acknowledged his efforts with a slight nod and an inconspicuous smirk before taking his leave as soon as the meeting ended.  Nick had been right, it was a good experience for him.  But as he dropped down into his little-used, standard issue office chair he felt more worn out than ever, now piling mental exhaustion on top of his bodily aches.  He could hardly wait to head home, order some Chinese take-out, down a beer or two and pass out cold.

***

“C’mon Buck!  Five more man.  You can do it… dig deep,” Sam encouraged.  Bucky gritted his teeth and huffed as he struggled to curl the heavy dumbbell up to his chest again.  Sam stood behind his client, bracing a firm, reassuring hand on each of Bucky’s shoulders, keeping him from losing his balance and helping him to strengthen his core while he worked his one full arm.  With only two reps left to go, Bucky was dripping with sweat and his arm was shaking so badly he actually started to laugh.

“Fuck,” he chuckled as he shifted in his seat on the bench, holding the weight out parallel to the floor, steeling himself to draw it up again.

“You got this Sarge,” Sam said.  Bucky shook his head and groaned, his arm still wobbling at his side.

“Tell you what,” his trainer continued.  “You pull off these last two and I’ll buy you a beer later tonight for each one.”

“You’re on,” Bucky groaned.

“Better make ‘em good though or the deal’s off,” Sam clarified.

A moment later, the trembling ceased completely.  Bucky narrowed his eyes and intently concentrated on an invisible focal point across the room, exhaling loudly as he slowly lifted and lowered the dumbbell for two perfectly executed repetitions.  The second he was finished, he let the weight drop to the floor with a resounding thud, just missing Sam’s foot.

“I knew that’d do the trick,” Sam laughed as he released the soldier’s shoulders and stepped around to face him.  “No wonder you and Nat are so tight… you’re both easily swayed by liquid rewards.”

Just then Natasha appeared out of nowhere and bumped her hip playfully into Sam’s.  “Speaking of which, I’m dying here Wilson.  I need my fix.  Now please.”

Bucky didn’t miss how Sam’s expression brightened at the sight of the fiery redhead.  Nor did he miss the way Natasha coyly tucked her hair behind her ear, a tiny smile momentarily playing on her lips as she continued to knock shoulders with the other man as they talked.

“So, are we done for today coach?” Bucky asked as he got up and returned the discarded dumbbell back to its rack.

“Except for the cool down and stretching,” Sam replied.  “Can’t skip that.”

Natasha sighed loudly and pouted, “Guess I’ll have to wait until after my next class is over.”

“No, no, no,” Bucky interjected.  “I know what to do.  Go.”

“You sure?” Sam asked looking uncertain but hopeful.  “I don’t want to hear that you can’t make it later tonight because you seized up on your sofa from a full body cramp.”

“I’m good,” Bucky assured them.  “Promise.  I’ll inhale and exhale, hold the stretch, take a nap…”

“Good.  Let’s go!” Natasha exclaimed tugging Sam away by the arm before the stalwart trainer could change his mind.

“See you tonight!” Sam called to Bucky as he walked away backwards towards the door.  “Eight o’clock sharp at Quiver.”  Bucky just nodded and waved his hand at him dismissively, “Okay, okay… see you then.”

***

At just about seven o’clock Bucky arrived at Nat’s apartment building and rang the buzzer.  Moments later, his gorgeous friend emerged from the lobby elevator wearing a sinfully tight, low-cut, little black dress that hugged her curves and highlighted her long, lithe figure.  Bucky whistled appreciatively.

“Wow, Nat.  Just… wow,” he stammered.

Natasha twirled around in her dangerously high-heeled, knee-high, black leather boots and looked back over her left shoulder at her friend with a mischievous smirk, “Too much?” she teased.

“Never,” he answered with a grin.  He then glanced down at his own choice of attire—his favorite dark wash skinny jeans, black loosely laced, untied combat boots, a light grey v-neck t-shirt and a well-worn, fleece lined, black leather jacket—and felt completely underdressed.

“I thought you said we were going to some ‘hole in the wall’ bar tonight,” he said confusedly.

Natasha rolled her eyes and crouched down to pull Bucky’s boot laces, tying them tightly at the top.

“We are going to a hole in the wall bar but I, you know… I work with these people—” she started to explain.

“You mean you work with Sam,” Bucky interrupted looking down at her with a knowing smile.  The fleeting look of utter surprise on his best friend’s usually unflappable face was enough to confirm his growing suspicions.

Her task completed she stood up quickly, adjusted the hem of her mid-thigh dress and did her best to try and cover the now obvious attraction she felt for her colleague.

“Among others,” she said tersely as she shrugged into a Kelly green trench coat that brought out the brilliant color of her eyes.  “Look, it’s not what you think…”

“Thank you,” Bucky said matter-of-factly, completely halting her argument.

“What?”

“Thank you,” he repeated.  “For tying my boots… well really for everything.  I don’t think I tell you this enough but I’m honestly not sure what I’d do without you, you know that?”

Natasha blushed and shook her head, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Bucky gently tipped her chin up with his fingers, silently coaxing her to meet his gaze.  He brushed the pad of his thumb gently along her chin.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly with a look of sincere adoration in his eyes.  Natasha smiled warmly at him, equally reverent.

“He’s a great guy, Nat.  And from what I can tell, he’s pretty crazy about you.  Do us both a favor tonight…  Don’t fight it, okay?  Just be yourself and see where things go.”

She leaned in and kissed her friend chastely on the cheek.  “Are you really giving me dating advice James Barnes?” she asked teasingly, the sweet moment between them having passed.  “Remind me,” she continued, lacing her words with a hint of sarcasm.  “When’s the last time you had a date?  Summer 2010 right?” Bucky just rolled his eyes, refusing to be goaded and offered his arm in escort.  “Shall we?”

***

Their cab pulled up right outside of Quiver a few minutes after eight.  It was a minor miracle considering the number of red lights they’d hit on the way and the unavoidable congestion that was part and parcel of a Friday night in the city.  Despite Natasha’s vehement arguments to split the bill, Bucky paid the driver and offered his hand to help her out of the car.  The bar was located on the corner of an older building brownstone building.  Aside from the vintage-looking sign hanging above the front door it was a completely unremarkable place on the exterior that Bucky probably would have never even noticed.  The inside of the place was an entirely different story.  It was quaint and rustic – a nicer take on an old English pub.  A few large, thick, oak plank tables were scattered around the room, each surrounded by four to five heavy wooden chairs.  The long bar that lined the left wall had at least a dozen equally sturdy high back stools tucked against it, many of which were gladly occupied at this hour of the evening.  Above the bar and scattered about was an impressive, eclectic collection of antique and modern archery equipment.  Custom crafted bows and arrows of every shape and size adorned all four walls.  Some of the latter literally pierced into the walls seemingly at random—the result of either a few poorly aimed, errant shots or rather precisely placed near-misses.  The whole place was narrow, deep and warmly lit with by a number of large, old fashioned light globes that hung down by long, link chains attached to the center of a number of ornately patterned, metal ceiling tiles.  There was a cozy alcove at the far end of the bar with a pair of tournament style dart boards mounted side-by-side.  The walls surrounding the targets were covered from floor to ceiling with thick, caramel-colored, natural cork tiles ready to absorb the myriad of unintentionally stray darts that would inevitably miss their mark.

“Tasha!” someone called loudly as they stepped fully inside and closed the door behind them, shutting out the cold, autumnal air.

“Hey Clint!” Natasha replied with a small wave.  The handsome, sandy-haired bartender casually threw the white bar towel he’d been using to dry a clean glass over his shoulder as he made his way out from behind the bar to give the redhead a proper welcome.  He threw his arms around her in an enthusiastic embrace and lifted her off of the ground despite her rather loud squeals of protest.

“Good to see you again!” he said after setting her down.  “This the new recruit Sam was telling me about?” Clint asked as he gestured towards Bucky.

“No,” Natasha replied.  “This is my dear friend James Barnes.  Ya know, the one I talk about frequently with only the highest regard?” she said conspiratorially with an exaggerated wink that Bucky couldn’t miss.  Clint looked at Bucky and then back to Natasha with a puzzled expression.  Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Bucky?”

Clint smiled and nodded, “Now that name rings a bell.”  He turned and extended a hand to Bucky.  “Clint Barton.  Nice to finally meet you,” he said with a firm handshake and a genuine smile.

Bucky returned the smile and replied, “Nice to meet you too.”  After they dropped hands, Bucky pointed up at the arsenal of projectile weapons decorating the walls and asked, “What’s up with the owner’s weird obsession with archery?”

Natasha elbowed him in the ribs discreetly as Clint replied, “I used to compete.  Now it’s more of a hobby."

“Word to the wise, don’t ever challenge this guy to a serious game of darts unless you want to lose your shirt,” Natasha warned.

“You should see how many of Natasha’s shirts I have,” Clint smirked as he walked away from the pair and slid stealthily back behind his bar.  “Now what can I get you kids?”

“A draught for me and a vodka martini with a lime twist instead of an olive for the lady,” answered Bucky, as he was well versed in his friend’s drinking proclivities.

Natasha began digging her credit card out of her clutch when Bucky stopped her.  “Start a tab for us on my card,” he said as he slid his credit card across the bar.  “I owe her.”

“I tied his shoes for him,” Natasha confirmed as she peeled off her coat and hung it on the back of one of the vacant stools.

“So, Sam said there was going to be karaoke tonight?” Bucky said wincingly.

“Does this look like the kind of place assholes would be singing karaoke in?” Clint snorted as he pulled the tap back and filled Bucky’s glass.

“If you’re already pouring, might as well make it two more,” called out Sam.  Bucky and Natasha turned to see Sam and Steve walking towards them, both of whom seemed to be doing their damnedest not to openly gawk at the gorgeous red-head and her drool-inducing, curve-hugging dress.  Seemingly oblivious, Natasha took turns hugging each man as a greeting while the men and Bucky shook hands.

“Glad you could make it,” Steve said quietly to Bucky as their hands dropped.  “I didn’t really want to go through whatever this ‘initiation ritual’ might be alone,” he added with a genuinely appreciative little smile that made Bucky’s stomach flip.

“Clint,” said Sam, reaching across the bar to shake his hand as well, “I’d like you to meet Steve Rogers.  He’s a former government employee as well.  But now he’s my employee, and as such he is required to go through our Team Building Exercises, specifically by consuming large quantities of alcohol.  And give Bucky his card back.  I told you Barnes, drinks are on me.”

Clint shook Steve’s hand.  “What branch?” he asked.

“Army,” said Steve.

“Me too, soldier,” Clint replied.

Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder and grinned at Clint like a proud papa bear, “That’d be _Captain_ Rogers actually.  Show some respect to your superiors Barton.”

Barton offered an exaggerated salute to the obviously embarrassed blond, “Sir, yes sir!” he barked as he slid a brimming beer mug in Steve’s direction with a nod.  Bucky smiled, his suspicions of Steve’s service having been confirmed.  He chewed his bottom lip absently as he watched the faint pink blush that was staining Steve’s cheeks began to spread down his throat and towards his chest.  Bucky couldn’t help but wonder just how far that rosy coloring ran down that hard, sculpted body.  He shook his head to try and physically dislodge the thought and took a long sip of his beer to wet his now dry mouth.  He was helped in his quest to clear his mind with the arrival of another member of the Rally team.

“Hey guys!!” Kylie yelled as she bounded through the door.  She hugged each person in turn and gave them a peck on the cheek in a flurry of Bubbly-Early 20s-Sorority Girl enthusiasm.  “I am so pumped to be out with you all tonight.  I’ve seriously had like the week from hell,” she said rolling her eyes and flicking her platinum hair back off of her bare shoulder as she bellied up to the bar in a pair of skin tight black, faux leather leggings and a long-sleeved, turquoise, off-the-shoulder top.  “Let’s do a shot!  Shots everyone?” she asked, not really waiting for nor necessarily wanting a reply.  “Shots all around!” she cheered waving her hand over her head in a sweeping circle.

Natasha leaned over to Bucky.  “Kylie really let’s her hair down once she’s off the clock,” she whispered.

“Apparently,” Bucky whispered back.

Clint lined up six shot glasses and poured a dark liquid in each one.

“What’re we drinking, Clint?” asked Sam.

“It’s Jägermeister, peach schnapps, and cranberry juice.”

Natasha reached across the bar and slugged Clint hard in the shoulder.  “It’s called a ‘Red-Headed Slut’.  Clint thinks he’s funny, inferring that I’m a slut.”

“No, I think I’m goddamned hilarious,” Clint chortled.

“That WAS pretty funny,” laughed Sam.

“Actually he implied you’re a slut.  You inferred you’re a slut.  It’s a question of semantics.  Regardless, he intimated you’re a slut,” Bucky said with a chuckle.

“SHOTS!” yelled Kylie impatiently.

“Alright guys,” said Sam, raising his glass.  “Here’s to new friends.  Cheers.”

“Cheers!” said everyone, clinking their glasses together in a sense of communal esprit de corps.  They gulped down the Red Headed Sluts and slammed the shot glasses down on the bar.  “Now then, who wants to play some darts?”  Sam asked.  His question was for the group, but his focus was on Natasha.

“I’m game if you are,” she said, smiling slyly back at him.  Sam took her hand as she hopped off her barstool.  Bucky watched as they strolled over to the dartboard together.  Sam whispered something into Natasha’s ear.  She placed her hand on his shoulder as she laughed at whatever humorous conspiratorial secret they were sharing.

Bucky’s view of Sam and Natasha’s flirt-filled waltz towards the dart boards was suddenly interrupted by something much more captivating.

“Mind if I join you?” Steve asked with one brow raised questioningly.

“’Course not,” Bucky answered with a warm smile that he couldn’t suppress.  “Have a seat Cap,” he said as he pulled the empty bar stool next to him back a little in invitation.  Steve’s cheeks again bloomed with splotches of redness as he settled down next to the brunet.  It was fucking adorable.

“How long?” Bucky asked as he leaned his forearm on the smooth, wood bar, cradling his frosted mug.

“Sorry?”

“How long you serve?” Bucky clarified.

“Oh, um… four tours,” Steve answered.  “Two in Iraq, two in Afghanistan.  You?”

“Afghanistan,” Bucky said staring down into the amber liquid in his glass.  “One and a half tours before I got hit.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly, not wanting to push for a painful war story.

Bucky shook his head and tried to swallow the lump that suddenly caught in his throat.  He looked up then and met Steve’s warm, calming gaze.  “Thank you,” he said finally.  Steve raised his now-empty mug and waved it at Clint to signal his want for another.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Steve said turning his attention back to Bucky.

Bucky smirked but the apprehension that washed over him was still evident in his expression.  Before he could answer though, Clint interrupted with Steve’s beer in hand.

“Here ya go,” Clint said.  “What about you bud?” he said nodding at Bucky.  “You ready for another?”

“Yeah man, thanks.”  Bucky waited for Clint to depart before taking a deep breath and giving a single affirmative nod to Steve, “Shoot.”

Steve took a draw on his draught before setting it back carefully on the bar.  He hesitated a moment, swiping his thumb slowly over the condensation covered glass before quietly asking, “Why don’t you use a prosthesis?”  His eyes darted quickly to Bucky’s left shoulder.

Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise at the unexpectedly blunt inquiry.  He snorted a little laugh at Steve’s brazenness before blowing a long, embellished breath out between his lips.  “Pssssshhhhhh… Well, um, after I was healed enough to try one, I uh…,” he paused and stared above the bar, looking for the right words as he studied a beautiful antique long-bow and momentarily wondered if it was a replica or real.

“It just didn’t feel right.  It was kinda heavy and uncomfortable and I couldn’t really do much with it, ya know?” he said, squinting at Steve uncertainly.  Of course he couldn’t know.

“Hmmm…” Steve replied with a slight nod as he looked pensively into his own mug.  Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, he was cut off by Sam, loudly calling his name from afar.

“Yo, Rogers!  Get your _fine_ ass over here!  Nat and I have a little bet going and we need an honest gentleman to settle the score.”

Steve chuckled for a moment before turning to face Bucky once more.

“Guess I’d better go see what’s going on over there before someone gets hurt,” he said as he picked up his half-full draught.  “And by someone, of course I mean Sam,” he added with a wink, one side of his mouth tugging up into a playful grin.

“Good idea,” Bucky encouraged, his voice coming out a bit higher than he’d intended.  Steve’s smile widened as he turned to leave.  Bucky angled his stool to get a better view of Steve and his very fine ass indeed as he wandered through the dimly lit room towards the dart boards.  His view was cut off abruptly when Kylie suddenly slid her well-toned, bottle-bronzed, scantily-clad body onto Steve’s just abandoned and still warm bar stool.

“Bucky!  It’s so great that you’re here!  I didn’t expect to see you tonight.  Having fun?” she asked in a rush of words that Bucky could hardly make out between the speed in which they left her lips and the growing din of bar room chatter as more and more people packed into the apparently popular pub.

“Yeah, it was really great of Sam to invite me to tag along to your Team Building,” he said sincerely.  “How ‘bout you?  Having a good time?”

“It’s getting better by the minute,” she answered with a flirtatious smile that certainly wasn’t lost on him.  Bucky took a sip of his beer, sneaking a long, full look at the apparently willing woman beside him.  She was beautiful for certain, like a breathing incarnation of a Malibu Barbie doll.

“So,” she said expectantly before she took a small sip of her bright pink Cosmopolitan.  She carefully set the sugar-rimmed martini glass down on the bar and reached her hand below the counter, settling it awkwardly on Bucky’s knee.  “You wanna play with me?” she asked looking up coyly through the thick fans of her mascara-coated lashes and giving his knee a firm squeeze.

Bucky choked on his beer, surprised by her sudden aggressiveness.  He coughed and sputtered before finally managing to not-so-tactfully reply, “Huh?”

***

“Hey Cap,” said Sam as Steve sidled up next to him.  “Sorry to interrupt your conversation with Sergeant Barnes there but we’re in need of your unbiased opinion on something.”

Steve looked at the scoreboard attached to the dartboard.  They were playing Cricket and Natasha was kicking Sam’s ass.

“If you’re going to ask me who I think the better thrower is, that answer is already painfully obvious,” he said with a nod towards the lopsided score marks.

“Dude, I’m letting her win so she’ll like me,” Sam teased.  Natasha rolled her eyes before throwing a dart.  It landed with a thud in the small "20" segment of the dartboard, right above the bull’s eye.

“Oh, just missed,” said Steve.

“I wasn’t aiming for the bull’s eye,” she said.  Natasha walked over to the scoreboard and wrote three tally marks next to the “20”.  She pulled her red-feathered darts out of the board and strutted back to the stance line.  She pivoted on her heel and quickly released one dart, despite it no longer being her turn.  It sailed in a blur before landing dead-center inside the tiny red circle in the middle of the target.  “ _That’s_ me aiming for the bull’s eye,” she said, and for emphasis downed the rest of her martini in one gulp.  She placed the empty glass on a table and yelled “Clint, Sam owes me a drink!”

“Yes ma’am,” Clint called back.  When he delivered the drink to Natasha he biffed her on the arm and nodded towards Bucky.  “You’re boy’s keepin’ his pimp hand strong over there.  Well, the pimp hand he has left I guess.”  Natasha slugged him in the shoulder, hard.

“You’re an ass,” she said, with a scowl.

Steve leaned over toward Natasha and discreetly asked “Doesn’t that bother you?  Watching him flirt with her?”

“Why would that bother me?” she replied, genuinely perplexed.  “I made him promise to talk to at least one person who wasn’t me or Sam tonight.  The fact that it’s Kylie only makes it better.  She’s like the training wheels of bar hook-ups.  If he can’t seal the deal with her we might have to all chip in and get him an escort.”

“Oh,” said Steve, confused.  “I thought you two were dating.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” she answered emphatically.  “Not even a little bit.  He’s like my best friend.”

“So you’re single then?” asked Sam with an irrepressibly hopeful look in between dart throws.

“Decidedly,” Natasha said, and winked at him, causing him to completely flub on his last pitch.

Sam coughed, trying to recover a little dignity before asking, “You think he likes her?”

“Well,” Natasha said tipping her head to the side as she stared down the bar to examine her clearly uncomfortable looking best friend, “he does have a thing for hot blondes.”  Nat just happened to catch the slight twitch in Steve’s expression in response to her remark as she turned back towards the target.  “All kinds of blonds,” she said pointedly, locking eyes with Steve and giving him a knowing smirk.

***

“Darts!” Kylie exclaimed, clearly enjoying the way she’d managed to fluster Bucky.  “Do you wanna play with me?”

Before Bucky could answer, Clint approached and asked, “Can I get you two anything?”

“I think I’m going to need a lot more alcohol,” Bucky immediately replied.

“A Long Island for the gentleman then?” Clint suggested.

“Mmmmm… I love those,” Kylie purred.  “Two please,” she said giving Clint a wink as she clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

“Anything to grease those wheels, honey,” Clint muttered as he turned to grab the necessary liquor bottles.

While Clint was occupied mixing their drinks a tall, dark and handsome man walked up and leaned against the bar next to Bucky.  Bucky looked him over and admired the way his supremely tight burgundy Henley and painted on black jeans hugged his muscular frame.  His slightly longer, jet black bangs fell loosely forward as he tipped his head down to look at his watch.  The man smiled politely at Bucky when he looked up, his green-hazel eyes were bewitching.  Bucky smiled awkwardly back, wishing he possessed the capability of being “smooth” in these types of situations.  When Clint finished the Long Island Iced Teas for Bucky and Kylie, the man waved him over and explained that he’d like to buy a drink for the man by the dart players, clearly pointing at Steve.

“Alrighty, one appletini coming up,” Clint said.

“Does he like appletinis?” the man asked.

“Chances are if you’re buying it for him he does,” Clint joked.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  Clint walked the drink over to Steve, who greeted the green martini with surprise, until Clint informed him the drink was being purchased for him by the confident, fetching gentleman standing next to Bucky.  Steve smiled and walked over to them.  He nodded at Bucky before thanking the man, and to Bucky’s never-ending surprise Steve walked over to where the man had been sitting and joined him.  The fact that the entirety of Bucky’s focus was now trained on Steve and his new friend didn’t seem to register with Kylie at all, as she continued to chat incessantly.  Bucky didn’t hear a word she said.  He watched transfixed as Steve and the man chatted each other up, shared some laughs, and at one point the man reached over and placed his hand on Steve’s wrist.  Steve not only didn’t protest, but the man let his hand linger there for quite a while.  Bucky’s heart pounded.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  Finally the two men pulled their cell phones out and appeared to exchange numbers.  The only way Bucky could’ve been more excited was if he was the one getting Steve’s number.  Steve appeared to thank the man for the drink before getting up and returning to Sam and Natasha.  As he passed Bucky and Kylie he gave Bucky a friendly slap on the back and Bucky thought that just for a moment Steve’s hand lingered there as well.

“So?  Darts?” Kylie asked getting up from her stool before Bucky had a chance to answer.

“Um… sure,” Bucky answered distractedly.  He sucked down his Long Island in three long gulps and set the empty glass down on the bar.

Clint smirked as he took the glass away.  “Get ya another one Sarge?”

“Fuck yeah,” Bucky replied immediately even as he started to feel the effects of the drinks he’d already downed.

“Hey, babe,” Natasha said when he made his way back to the dartboards.  “You doin’ alright?”

Bucky couldn’t suppress the dopey smile that tugged up one corner of his lips as he glanced first at Steve and then back to Natasha.  “Better than alright,” he answered.

Kylie turned and handed him three black feather darts.  “Closest to the bull’s eye wins.  Loser buys next round.”  The blonde lobbed her darts in quick succession, two hit the outer rim of the board while the last one landed closer to the center of the target.  Looking pleased with herself, she stepped aside to make room for her challenger.

Clint walked back with a fresh Long Island for Bucky and stood back to chat with the group for a moment as he watched the former soldier take his turn.  Bucky placed the tip of right boot against the throw line taped to the floor and held his first dart up at eye level.  He closed his left eye, inhaling deeply once as he focused on the target before letting the barb fly.  It landed firmly in the tiny red circle and was soon joined by the other two before anyone had a chance to say a word.  Kylie’s jaw dropped as she looked on dumbfounded and disappointed.  Clint barked out a laugh as Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“Special Forces.  Sniper,” Natasha explained proudly.

“Finally!  A worthy adversary,” Clint said with a giant grin as he gave Bucky a light jab in the arm.  “Another Long Island for the ringer courtesy of the lovely lady coming right up.  Anyone else need another?”  Everyone raised their partially empty glasses in response.  When he noticed the visible pout on Kylie’s face he added, “Come on sweetheart, this one’s on me.”  He held his hand out to her and nodded towards the bar.  “Consider it a consolation prize for being hoodwinked.”

Kylie’s feigned frown swiftly shifted into a flirty smile as she flipped her fickle affections away from Bucky and towards the handsome barkeep instead.  She grabbed his hand and giggled as he yanked a bit, causing her to stumble a step as they made their way through the burgeoning crowd back to the bar.  Bucky didn’t even bother to watch them go.  He took a long draw from his fresh drink and chuckled under his breath as Natasha bumped their hips together.

“You’re such a brat,” she chided with a smile.  “You realize you just lost an easy lay to Barton right?”

“It’s okay,” he said plucking all six darts out of the board.  “She’s not really my type.”

“So you’re _not_ into hot blondes then?” Sam asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked suspiciously at Natasha.

“Oh no, I definitely am,” Bucky said kicking back the rest of his second Long Island.  Emboldened by liquid courage, he licked his lips and let his eyes wander unabashedly over Steve’s perfect form.  Steve drained the rest of his beer and smiled shyly at him, his cheeks flushing pink in the process.

Sam’s eyes narrowed for a moment before going comically wide in sudden understanding.  He schooled his features quickly, cleared his throat and took another swig of his beer.

“So, team cricket?” he asked as he moved to erase the last round of scores.

“Only if I can be on Bucky’s team,” Steve said as he stepped closer to the brunet.  “I like winning.”

“It’s all good,” Sam replied.  “Clearly you underestimate my girl’s mad skills.”  He picked up the chalk and scrawled “Underdogs” on one side of the scoreboard and “Super Soldiers” on the other.

“Yo! Hawkeye!” Sam yelled across the room.  “We’re gonna need another round of shots back here brother.  It’s gonna be a long night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will definitely be heating up next chapter. Hope you'll stay tuned!


	5. Free Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Building shenanigans continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting. Hope you enjoy!!

What started out as a highly competitive game of Cricket—with Bucky and Natasha both trading literal barbs with deadly accuracy, and Sam and Steve doing their level best not to piss off their cutthroat cohorts with their less-than-perfect aim—soon dissolved into a raucous game of try-to-hit-the-target-at-all as the alcohol continued to flow.  After Natasha and Sam managed to win the first match by the skin of their teeth, they decided to mix up the teams with Sam and Bucky challenging Natasha and Steve.  That’s when things took a turn for the dirty.

As Sam stepped up to the throwing line and narrowed his eyes at the target, Natasha slunk up next to him, her body crowded close to his and her lips hovering barely an inch from his ear.  She whispered coyly, “So just out of curiosity… do prefer to be on top or underneath?”  Sam’s eyes flew open wide as he suddenly released the dart, sending it flying a full foot above the board.  Bucky barked out a loud laugh and Natasha chuckled quietly with the best innocent look she could muster as a still-stunned Sam wheeled around.

He arched an eyebrow with suspicious annoyance at his new partner and asked, “Whose team are you on now, Sarge?”  Bucky tried to reign in his laughter before offering a half-hearted apology to his teammate.  Sam then turned slowly to face his effective instigator.

“Now, that wasn’t very nice,” he said in a low voice, his dark brown eyes roaming appreciatively from her sparkling green eyes to her full, painted lips.  “I’m sorry,” she said with an impish grin.  “Did I ruin your moment?”

“You’re gonna ruin his pants soon if you don’t let up a little Nat,” Steve said, smirking conspiratorially as he adopted his stance at the throw line beside them.

Sam took a step back and shifted his gaze between the wicked pair.  “Ah, I see how it is now,” he said picking up his beer and taking a long sip.  “Ya know, two can play that game,” he added with a pointed look at the mischievous redhead.  He walked back to the stool Bucky was sitting on and leaned in to whisper something in his partner’s ear.  After a few moments, Bucky snorted and shook his head.  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, standing up to take his turn.

A few more rounds passed without incident as the foursome drank, laughed, drank some more and chatted enthusiastically about their favorite movies, songs, and sports.  Sam gave Bucky an inconspicuous nod as he regaled the group with a humorous story about one of his more unintentionally comical clients at the club.  Just then Steve approached the throw line, darts in hand.  He took a moment to assume his position, shaking his head a little in an effort to shirk the alcohol-fueled haze that was beginning to impede his aim.  At the same time, Bucky slipped casually off his stool and quietly walked up behind the tall blond.  He kept a respectable distance as he watched Steve throw his first dart.  It landed just outside of the “15” he was targeting.

“C’mon Rogers, focus!” Natasha huffed in frustration.  That’s when Bucky and Sam made their respective moves.

Sam stepped in front of the stool Natasha was sitting on, effectively blocking her view of both Steve and Bucky.  He smiled suggestively at her as he shuffled a little closer.  “I can give _you_ somethin’ to focus on,” he teased, reveling in his ability to momentarily silence his curvy crush.

“Oh yeah?” she asked as she hooked her index fingers into Sam’s front belt loops, pulling him closer.

Steve held his second dart up and readied to throw it when Bucky crowded in closer and breathed playfully in his ear, “Getting harder?”

Steve swallowed loudly as his arm flinched, sending his dart in a diagonal path towards the other team’s board.  While the blush that Bucky was seriously becoming infatuated with started to stain his lightly freckled cheeks, Steve just looked down at the floor and chuckled, realizing he’d just been played.  He turned slowly to look at Bucky, allowing his eyes to wander deliberately over the other man’s frame.  It was Bucky’s turn to blush as Steve smiled at him heatedly, bright blue eyes growing dark he replied, “Yeah… it is.”

Keeping his eyes locked with Bucky’s, Steve lobbed his last dart haphazardly with his left hand.   It landed with a clink rather than a thud pulling all of them out of their respective flirt-induced trances.  When Natasha saw one of their darts on the floor and the other near the center of the wrong target she yelled, “Jesus Christ Steve!  Get off your goddamn knees over there – you’re blowing the game!!”

All three men fixed their disbelieving stares on the brash, irritated vixen.  After a beat of silence, the scowl she wore faded into a look of annoyed confusion before she rolled her eyes and indignantly huffed, “What?”

Sam was the first to crack, howling with laughter at the little firecracker he was evidently falling head over heels for.  Seconds later and they were all four doubled over, gasping in fits of uncontrollable laughter.  When Sam finally was able to gain his composure, he wiped the tears away from the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand, glanced quickly at his watch and took Natasha by the hand to help her up from her seat.

“On that note, why don’t we let someone else take a turn on the boards and go grab some of Hawk’s hot wings before we’re _all_ on our knees or worse?” he suggested gesturing back towards their seats at the bar.

***

Five dozen wings, four rounds of drinks, and three hours later and the lot of friends were all well on their way to their own imminent and well-earned hangovers.  It was nearing two o’clock in the morning and the crowd at Quiver had thinned significantly, leaving only a handful of Clint’s regular faithful and the rambunctious Rally crew.

“Turn up the music!” Kylie suddenly cried upon hearing Jessie J.’s ‘Bang Bang.’  “I LOVE this song!!”

Clint leaned across the bar and looked at the inebriated blonde and dared, “Why, you wanna dance on the bar for me, baby?”

“Can I?” she asked with bewildered excitement.

“It’s my bar isn’t it?” he replied smugly.

“As a matter of-- _hiccup_ —fact it is,” she replied with a crooked smile.

Clint held his hand out to help her step up precariously onto the bar.  Once she had both of her four-inch, high-heel adorned feet planted firmly on the surface, she shot her arms up above her head and whooped loudly in celebration of her ascent.  Clint reached down below the bar to turn the volume up, heavy bass reverberating off of the walls and causing the liquid in the glasses that were sitting on the bar to ripple in concentric circles with each thumping beat.  Kylie began to sway her hips to the rhythm, staring down at the bemused bartender with a hungry stare.

Natasha cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Wooo!  Shake that money maker!”

Kylie shook her ass with exaggerated vigor before breaking out in a fit of hiccup-filled giggles.  “Come on Nat!  Dance with me!” she yelled back.

Natasha began to shake her head “no” when Bucky stepped in front of her.  “I thought this was a ‘Team Building’ night,” he said with a smirk.  Natasha rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her body.  “Are you really gonna leave your plastered colleague up there all by her lonesome?” he asked disapprovingly.

Natasha looked over Bucky’s shoulder at the clumsily gyrating blonde on the bar before shifting her focus to meet the shy, hopeful expression on Sam’s face.  Bucky turned to follow her gaze and chuckled under his breath when he turned back to her.  “Ya know if you refuse, Kylie won’t be the only one disappointed right?”  Her friend clasped his hand on her shoulder encouragingly and gave her a gentle nudge.  “Go on Nat,” he said with a nod towards the bar, “Take one for the team.”

Natasha exhaled loudly in faux annoyance.  “Fine,” she groused.

“Atta girl,” Bucky replied with a friendly wink as he made to turn away.  Natasha grabbed him by the elbow and halted him in his tracks.

“Not so fast there Tony Robbins,” she said with a wicked grin.  “If I have to get up there, then so do you.”  Bucky opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off before he could utter another word.  “Non-negotiable,” she added.  “Now, go.  Up.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around and physically steered him, dragging feet and all to the bar.  Bucky grabbed one of Natasha’s hands to help her climb gracefully up onto the bar.  “The things I won’t do to help you get laid Nat,” he grumbled as he hauled himself up right after.  She gave him the most incredulous look he’d ever seen grace her usually implacable visage.

“As _if_ I’d _ever_ need your help in that area, Barnes,” she laughed.  “In fact,” she added once they were standing up on the bar together, their faces inches apart.  She leaned in so he could hear her over the pounding music, “I think I might be the one helping you,” she said with an almost unnoticeable nod to Steve who was sitting in a stool next to Sam smiling dopily as they both looked on giddily at their newfound source of entertainment perched above them.

“What makes you think I’m even interested?” Bucky challenged as they began to sway suggestively together.  Natasha gave him a look that screamed, _“Really?”_

“No one’s _that_ straight,” she said matter-of-factly.  Bucky shrugged.  “Fair enough,” he conceded.  “Well, what makes you think he might be into me then?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty clouding his expression as he looked away and down at their feet.

Natasha turned and pressed her back into Bucky’s chest to make a show of bumping and grinding against him for their captive audience.  She winked at Sam through the curtain of tousled scarlet tresses that framed her face, earning a loud whistle, enthusiastic clapping, and a huge, gap-toothed smile.  As she worked her way down Bucky’s body, twisting her hips as she went, she stole a glance at Steve through her purposely hooded eyes.  The blond was spellbound.  His gaze fixed squarely on the man dancing behind her.

When Natasha turned back around, she smiled smugly at her best friend before replying to his question.  “Well, besides the fact that the two of you have been blatantly flirting with one another all night, of the two of us up on this bar right now, he’s only got eyes for one of us and it’s sure as hell not me!”

Bucky chuckled as he felt Kylie slide up behind him, slowly grinding her ass against his to the beat of the music.  He leaned in to Natasha’s ear again.  “Ever think that might be because he doesn’t want to piss off his new boss?”

Natasha just shook her head and rolled her eyes.  “Whatever you say, crazy.”

Clint poured another round of shots for everyone, this one on the house in honor of the ‘hot-as-fuck dancers’, and to a lesser extent Bucky, performing on his bar top.  Steve and Sam stood to reach their glasses up to toast with their friends.  The two men threw their shots back and slammed their glasses down on the bar.  Kylie, Nat and Bucky followed suit, each tossing their heads back to drain their drinks.

What happened next was kind of a blur.  As Kylie tipped back to drink her shot, she lost her balance.  She kicked over a couple of half-filled glasses on the side of the bar splashing the spilled drinks all over Steve and their makeshift dancefloor before bumping into Bucky.  Bucky then lost his balance as he bumped haphazardly into Natasha.  Natasha began to flounder as her sky-high-heels slipped on the now-wet bar.  She looked at Bucky with wide-eyed helplessness as she began to fall backwards, injury imminent.  Bucky acted on instinct and threw his arm out to grab his flailing friend by the arm, pulling her upright and steadily to her feet even as he lost his own solid footing in return.  Bucky let go of Natasha before he felt his body jerk in the opposite direction.  He was going to fall off of the bar and hit the floor and there was nothing he could do about it.  Well, nothing except hope it didn’t result in a cracked skull and a drunken trip to the E.R.  There was no fucking way he wanted to sober up _that_ way.  At least the alcohol in his system was keeping his body more lax than it likely would’ve been otherwise, the reserve of his reflexes having already been spent on sparing Natasha his apparent fate.  Bucky closed his eyes and tried to at least mentally brace himself for impact.

A split second later, Bucky felt his body collide with something that definitely was not the cold, hard floor he’d been expecting.  He blinked his eyes a few times trying to regain focus but the room was spinning around him.  He closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply, trying to push the rush of nausea that threatened to make him puke without his permission right back down his throat.  His nose was immediately filled with a familiar, deliciously fresh, clean scent.  Although that sweet aroma was now mixed with the smell of the spilled whiskey and beer that had splashed onto Steve’s clothing, it didn’t stop Bucky from blurting out, “Fuck, you smell good.”  He opened his eyes to find himself cradled comfortably in a bridal-style carry in Steve’s big, strong arms.  Steve smiled down at him warmly making no immediate move to set the other man down.

“Are you okay?” he asked concernedly as he looked Bucky over for any obvious sign of injury or distress.  Bucky felt his stomach flutter at the protective, possessive way Steve was handling him.  He felt safe and warm and man he could totally get used to being curled up in Steve’s embrace.  “Bucky?” Steve called, pulling the woozy brunet out of his reverie.

“Sorry,” he replied with a sloppy grin, a light blush staining his cheeks.  “Yeah, ‘m fine.  Thanks to you.”  Steve set him down on carefully and took a small step back.  Natasha suddenly appeared next to them looking no worse for the wear.  She wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck and gave him a tight hug.  “Thank you,” she said sincerely.  She pulled away and turned her attention to Steve next, leaning up to place a small kiss on his cheek.  “And thank you for catching him Prince Charming.  Sorry, I’d hug you too but I don’t want to ruin my dress,” she said gesturing toward his booze-soaked shirt.  Steve looked down at the large wet spots spreading across the light blue fabric of his button down oxford that Bucky would absolutely not claim brought out the summer sky color of Steve’s eyes.  Then he looked at the line of wet spots soaking the side of Bucky’s light grey t-shirt where he’d been pressed up against Steve’s body.

“Maybe we should try to get cleaned up?” he suggested to Bucky with a shrug.  Clint tossed them each two clean bar towels and smirked, “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Steve and Bucky made their way down the long, narrow corridor leading to the restrooms, the sound of their friends teasing Kylie for the chain reaction of destruction she’d caused fading from their ears the further back they went.  Having stepped into the small restroom labeled “Arrows,” Bucky thoroughly wet one of the towels and squeezed it out as best he could in the sink before turning to Steve.

“C’mere punk,” he said with a tender smile.  Steve turned towards him and stood stock still as Bucky dabbed the wet towel over the stains covering his chest and stomach, rubbing gently to scrub away the potent smell and slight discoloration.

“So,” Bucky said as he focused on the task at hand, “You make a regular habit of saving clumsy jerks like me from certain doom?”  Steve huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes twinkling with drunken mirth.

“Just lucky I guess.  Always seem to be in the right place at the right time,” he teased.  Bucky dropped the wet towel in the sink basin and took the dry towel he’d had draped over his shoulder and began dabbing it futilely over Steve’s now completely soaked shirt.  He tried not to stare at the way the wet cotton clung to Steve’s full pecs, hardened nipples and rippled abs but he simply couldn’t help himself.  He’d always had a hard time controlling his baser instincts when he was under the influence.

“Well, thanks,” Bucky said taking a step back, shaking his head and shifting his gaze to Steve’s face.  “But I think I’m the lucky one here.”  He looked back down at Steve’s shirt.  “Wish I could say the same for your shirt.”  Steve didn’t seem overly concerned.

Bucky cleared his throat and added, “You might be better off just taking it off and holding it under the hand dryer for a while.  If you want,” he added awkwardly.

Steve began to slowly unbutton his shirt causing Bucky’s pulse to race with each unfastened closure.  Bucky stood there rapt and watched, making no attempt to mask his obvious interest as Steve finally peeled the sticky shirt away from his unbelievable body.

“Fuck, Steve.  Two hundred years ago, the women of the village would’ve used your abs to clean their clothes down by the river,” Bucky joked.

“You’re hilarious,” Steve retorted with a warm smile.

“Here,” he said handing Bucky his shirt.  “How ‘bout if you hold this under the dryer while I return the favor and clean you up a bit?”

“Seriously,” Bucky said as he dutifully took the shirt, “like a fucking Adonis.”  Before Steve could reply, Bucky smacked the large, round chrome button on the hand dryer with the back of his hand filling the room with the loud, steady hum of the powerful little machine.  He held the garment under the hot streaming air, turning it over as well as he could with one hand as he tried to dry the fabric.  Between the steady lulling sound of the motor and the sudden burst of warmth that surrounded him, Bucky found himself struggling to keep his eyes open as he wobbled back and forth in place.

“Hey,” Steve said as he gently rubbed the warm wet towel over Bucky’s soiled sleeve.  “Still with me soldier?”  Bucky nodded drowsily, blinking back the urge to sleep.  By the time the dryer abruptly shut off, Steve had done an admirable job of removing the most obvious stains.  Bucky examined Steve’s still sodden shirt and chuckled aloud.

“Sorry pal, but at this rate we could be in here until tomorrow night before this dries,” Bucky exhaled.  Steve smiled and shrugged back into his shirt.  “Well, at least it’s warm now,” he replied with a boyish grin.

“Are you always so… _positive_ Steve?” Bucky asked as he begrudgingly watched the blond begin to button back up.

“Um… yes?” Steve replied uncertainly, apparently unsure if that was something Bucky found appealing or annoying.

“It’s…” Bucky paused as he struggled to find the right word.  “Nice,” he finally said with a fond little smile that just tugged up the corner of one side of his mouth.  Steve kept staring at those playful lips as he worked the last few buttons closed, unconsciously stepping closer to Bucky.  Bucky swallowed loudly and wondered if he was reading the situation right.  _Was Steve moving closer and staring at his mouth because he wanted to kiss him?_   Bucky sure as hell hoped so.  He licked his own lips as he stared at Steve’s in turn, leaning in ever so slightly when they were surprised by a loud knock on the door.  A second later, Sam pushed the door in slightly and poked his head through the small opening to check in on his friends.

“You fellas okay in here?” Sam asked sheepishly, his eyes shutting on instinct at the site of Steve evidently re-dressing.  “Nat _insisted_ I come back here and make sure that neither of you had your head stuck to a disgusting toilet seat or anything.  Sorry,” he added with a quick wave of his hand as he made his hasty retreat.  Bucky couldn’t help but let out a laugh despite his utter frustration and disappointment that whatever moment he’d been having with Steve was completely killed by the awkward interruption.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed to himself as he opened the door and walked out into the hallway.  “I’m gonna kill ‘em.”  Bucky had taken two strides down the long corridor determined to make good on his muttered promise when he felt Steve’s hand on his right shoulder.

“Hey Bucky?” Steve called, effectively stopping him in his tracks.  Bucky turned around quickly to see what he wanted.  Steve answered him by pulling him in and pressing their lips together.  Bucky made a small sound of surprise he hadn’t meant to let out, but made no move to pull away.  In fact, he wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and leaned into the kiss, making sure the other man knew that his advances were more than welcome.  Steve pressed Bucky’s back against the wall, never breaking the kiss as he caged him in with his solid, warm body.  Bucky moaned as he parted his lips, inviting Steve to explore his mouth with his tongue.  Steve didn’t need any more encouragement than that.  He eagerly slid the tip of his tongue along Bucky’s plush bottom lip before delving inside the warm, wet heat with a fevered passion.

Steve’s hands slowly wandered up and down Bucky’s sides before he reached up to rest his right hand on the side of the brunet’s neck, holding him in place as he controlled the kiss, damn near setting Bucky on fire.  Bucky broke away for a moment to nip at Steve’s chin before trailing a line of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw to his ear.  He nibbled on the soft lobe before sucking it into his mouth, earning a low moan and full-body shudder from the man hovering over him.

Steve reached down between them with his left hand and cupped his palm over Bucky’s straining erection, pressing down with the heel of his hand as he massaged him through the tight, rough denim.  Bucky banged the back of his head against the wall in response, relieved by the friction but still so far from what he really wanted.  He pulled his arm away from Steve’s waist to massage the blond’s obvious arousal through the front of his pants as well.  “Fuck, Steve,” he panted between more heated kisses.  “I want to touch you so badly.”

Steve moaned and bit down on the thick juncture of muscle between the brunet’s throat and shoulder and began sucking a bruising mark on his fair, salty skin.  Bucky didn’t wait for an invitation or an answer to his plea.  Instead he just slipped his hand down the front of Steve’s pants and into his boxers, deftly wrapping his fingers around Steve’s thick, hard cock.  Bucky had just begun to stroke him as well as he could within the confines of his trousers when Steve returned the favor, shoving one his large, warm, calloused hand into the front of Bucky’s now painfully snug skinny jeans.  Seeking to give as well as he was getting, Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s hot length, rubbing his thumb over the leaking slit as their mouths crashed together, tongues caressing hotly over softly uttered grunts and groans.  Both of them seemed to completely forget their surroundings in their lust-driven, alcohol-fueled frenzy as they attacked each other against the wall in the quiet, darkened passage.

“Awww for fuck’s sake.”

Both men jumped at the sound of Clint’s voice echoing down the corridor.  They pulled their wet, kiss-swollen lips apart and stared glassy-eyed and panting at the suddenly surly owner, each of them obviously mortified at being caught.

“I already have a sticky bar to clean up, I don’t need a sticky hallway too.  Take it to the bathroom, you two, like goddamn adults.  I have health codes to worry about.  Or go out back behind the dumpster.  I catch bums blowing each other all the time back there.  The ambience of dumpster stink is irresistible.”  Clint shook his head and rolled his eyes as he walked past them and into the Arrows’ room.  After the door closed behind him Steve and Bucky looked at each other, their hands still frozen mid-handjob, and began laughing hysterically at the drunken ridiculousness of their situation.

“Guess our luck has officially run out,” Bucky resigned as their laughter faded.  They retracted their hands awkwardly, both of them sighing with unfulfilled angst, before turning to make the long, difficult walk back to the bar.  Their shoulders bumped amiably as they staggered down the hall, emerging to find all of their friends slumped tiredly on their stools.

“Bout damn time,” Natasha rasped, her voice sounding thick and gravelly.  “It’s been fun, but I’m done,” she added as she slowly lifted her head away from Sam’s warm, broad shoulder.  “Take me home, James.”


	6. Bait and Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky nurses a wicked hangover at Nat's place following Friday's crazy team-building event. Sam surprises him Monday at the club and a lot flirting and fluff ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally felt Bucky's pain at the beginning of this chapter. I overindulged last Thursday night before the premiere of Avengers: AOU and I was feeling it for sure the following morning. Oh the price we often pay to the party gods. (P.S. It was totally fun and worth it!)

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Bucky whined as he felt his pulse pounding loudly in his head.  His tongue felt thick and fuzzy in his impossibly dry mouth.  He rolled from his side to his back and exhaled loudly as he waited to see if his roiling stomach was going to settle down or full-on revolt from the ungodly amount of alcohol Bucky had pumped into it the evening before.  _The evening before…_ when he’d finally felt those soft, full lips against his, and that warm, soft tongue probing his mouth, and…

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered as he felt his already semi-hard cock stiffening to full mast in his pants.  Now that falling back asleep was apparently a lost cause, he reached down to give himself a little squeeze as he cracked one eye open and instantly stayed his hand when he remembered he was actually lying on Natasha’s incredibly comfortable couch and not his own.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope you’re just scratching your balls right now,” Natasha said dryly from her perch on the oversized black leather armchair to his left.  Bucky glanced over at his seemingly unaffected, freshly showered friend seated with her knees up to her chest, steaming cup of coffee cradled carefully in her hands.  Bucky groaned and threw his arm over his eyes and willed his erection away.

“How can you possibly be coherent right now?” he rasped.  “You drank almost as much as I did last night.”

“What’s the matter rookie?  Didn’t your mama teach you how to drink?” she teased.

“God, I feel like death warmed over,” Bucky complained with a cough to try and clear his gravely throat.

“Here,” Natasha said having suddenly appeared at his side, glass of water in one hand and two ibuprofen in the other.  “Take these.”

Bucky made to sit up and winced in pain.

“Oh, quit being such a baby, James.  From the looks of things, it was _totally_ worth the price you’re paying right now.”

Bucky thanked Nat as he took the pills and then the water, draining the glass in one go before setting it down on the coffee table.  “Whatdya mean by the looks of it?  I’m sure I look like hell right now,” he said before burping loudly.

“Pig,” Natasha scolded as she took a seat next to him.  She jabbed her index finger none too gently into the purple-colored hickey at the base of his throat and explained, “Well, unless you were attacked by that flying octopus that’s been plaguing the city, I’d say you and Steve did a bit more than ‘clean your shirts’ when you disappeared into the men’s room for an hour.”

Bucky couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin that pulled up one corner of his mouth as his thoughts wandered back to Steve.  “We weren’t gone for an hour,” he muttered feebly.

Natasha chuckled and stood for a moment to fold one leg beneath her as she sank back down into corner of the couch, facing Bucky properly to begin her interrogation.  “Okay, spill,” she ordered.  “I want details and I want them now.”

“Nat,” Bucky sighed as he craned his neck back to look up at the ceiling, “Do we really have to do this right now?  I’m not even sure I remember everything that happened.”  The color suddenly drained from Bucky’s skin as a look of panic flashed on his face.  He whipped his head around to face his best friend.

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit, shit!” he chanted, his breath picking up as his eyes widened with fear.

“What?” Natasha asked calmly as she laid a hand on his thigh to try and ground him.

“Did I do anything completely stupid or embarrassing last night?  Fuck!  Please tell me I didn’t do or say anything too weird,” he begged.

“Nothing more than usual,” Natasha teased.

“Oh god,” Bucky groaned as he scrubbed his hand over his stubble-covered jaw.  “What’d I do?  Just, tell me!”

“Shhhhh...” Natasha whispered moving closer to him.  She lifted a hand to rake her fingertips gently through his thoroughly mussed hair, lightly scratching his scalp.  “You didn’t do anything humiliating.  Promise.”

Bucky closed his eyes and breathed out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

“At least that I’m aware of,” Natasha added guiltily.  When Bucky glared at her in frustration, she cupped his cheek in her hand and tried to reassure him again.  “You _both_ had goofy looking grins plastered on your faces when you stumbled back from whatever you were doing back there so there’s that…”

Bucky tilted his face to nuzzle into her palm and mumbled, “Thanks, Nat.  Sorry.  It’s just… I like him and I don’t wanna fuck it up before I even have a chance to get his phone number.”

Natasha snorted.  “Seriously?  You mean you swapped spit with the guy but you didn’t think to swap numbers with him?”

“Well, I don’t exactly think either of us were thinkin’ with the heads above our shoulders at that very moment, if you know what I mean,” Bucky replied with a smirk.

“Boys,” Natasha said as she rolled her eyes.

“What about you and Sam?” Bucky asked.

“We’ve had each other’s numbers for a while now,” she answered knowing full well that wasn’t what her friend was asking about.

“I saw you cozying up a bit when we were playing darts.  You get a taste of that sweet brown sugar or what?” he prodded.

“Oh no you don’t,” Natasha huffed.  “You’re not weaseling out of this that easily, Barnes.  I still want the deets of your dirty deeds!”

Bucky chuckled and acquiesced, telling Natasha about their conversation and close call in the restroom, how Steve had initiated things between them right after by kissing him senseless against the wall before they ended up getting caught by Clint like a couple of eager teenagers with their hands down each other’s pants.

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh when he’d finished his torrid tale, his cheeks stained pink with obvious embarrassment.

“I can tell you one thing for sure,” she said confidently.  “My night with Sam didn’t go _nearly_ as well as yours did with Steve.”

Bucky shook his head and smiled with a quiet laugh as the blush on his cheeks darkened.

“Then again,” she added, “I do have _some_ sense of propriety which you’ve always lacked.  Wouldn’t have guessed it about Steve though.  Horny bastard.”  With that Nat got up to refill her mug.  “Coffee?”

Bucky waved her off dismissively towards the kitchen as he stood up slowly, wobbling a bit in the process.  “Thanks, but no thanks.  Don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet,” he added with a grunt as he shuffled to the bathroom to take a piss, returning quickly to settle back into the warm, welcoming leather.  Natasha returned a moment later and cuddled back in her favorite chair.

“So, you still never told me what happened with you and Wilson,” Bucky murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as the pull towards sleep began to overpower his exhausted brain and body.

“That’s because respectable women don’t kiss and tell,” she answered haughtily before taking a sip of her freshly filled mug.

“That’s true,” Bucky said peering at her through one barely opened eye.  “Good thing for me, you don’t fall into that category so, out with it.”

Natasha gave him her best affronted face before chucking a giant throw pillow with all the force she could muster at his head.

Bucky grabbed the soft projectile like it was a gift from heaven and smiled smugly at her as he propped it underneath his head.  “Ahhhh… now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.  Thanks!”

“Watch it James.  Next time I’m going to tie your shoes together so you fall flat on that handsome face of yours.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Fuck,” Natasha sighed.  “You’re right, I wouldn’t.  But I’m also not going to tell you what you want to know now either so there!”  Letting her inner six year-old shine, she stuck her tongue out to emphasize her point.

Bucky just chuckled.  “Love ya, Nat,” he said sweetly as his eyelids slipped shut again and he quickly drifted off to sleep.

She couldn’t hide the affection in her voice when she quietly replied, “Love you too, brat.”

***

Bucky laid low for the rest of the weekend, nursing his hangover and trying to chip away as best he could at the giant mountain of dirty clothes that had somehow managed to take over more than half of his bedroom.  Doing the laundry was something Bucky used to secretly enjoy before he’d shipped out.  It was an easy task that gave him a sense of instant accomplishment as well as clean clothes.  Now though it was a necessary evil.  Folding and hanging clothes with one arm was an exasperating chore that took him twice as long as it used to and often ended with shirts that looked like they’d been folded by a first grader on a sugar high.  After spending his Sunday toiling in the laundry room, Bucky was more than ready to work up a sweat and work off some of his frustration when he waltzed into Rally early Monday morning.

After checking in at the front desk and commiserating briefly with Kylie about their overindulgences on Friday, Bucky made his way towards Sam’s office when he ran into the man himself in the hallway.

“Hey Sarge!  How you feelin’ man?  Recovered fully from Friday night?” Sam asked grinning widely.

“For the most part.  Saturday was hell, yesterday was a tiny bit better.  I survived.  You?”

“Dude, that was seriously the BEST team building night we’ve ever had,” Sam replied.  “So totally epic!”

“It was really a fun time,” Bucky agreed.  “Thanks again for inviting me along.”

Bucky thought for a fleeting moment about ribbing Sam for the way he’d not-so-subtly made a move on his best friend Friday night at the bar but decided against it for his trainer’s sake as well as his own.  Natasha would absolutely rip him a new one if he did _anything_ to ruin whatever it was that was starting to develop between her and Sam.

“So, you ready to put me through the wringer?” Bucky asked, turning to head for the cardio area.

“About that… ” Sam started placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to halt him in his tracks.  “I’m sorry man but I can’t work with you today.  I’m an idiot and forgot I’d scheduled a doctor’s appointment for this morning awhile back.”

“Everything okay?” Bucky asked, genuinely concerned about his friend.

“Yeah, Sarge.  It’s all good.  Just booked this thing with my chiropractor like six months ago and totally forgot about it until now.  They sent me a text reminder this morning but you were already on your way in.  Anyway, I don’t really want to wait another six months by rescheduling, you know?” Sam replied sheepishly.

Bucky nodded, relieved it wasn’t anything serious.  “Yeah, ‘course.  No worries,” he said.  “I’ll just jog on the treadmill for a bit since I’m here anyways and I’ll catch you tomorrow yeah?”

“Oh no, no, no…” Sam said shaking his head with a low chuckle.  “You’re not gettin’ off _that_ easy soldier.”

Bucky looked at him, brows furrowed with obvious confusion.

“Look, just because _I_ can’t work you out today doesn’t mean that you’re not going to get one at all.  What kind of trainer do you think I am?” Sam asked pretending to be thoroughly affronted.

Before Bucky could respond, Steve came striding down the hall with a blindingly beautiful smile on his face, his sky blue eyes shining brightly.

“Based on the overwhelmingly positive feedback you receive from your clients, I’m going to say a damn good one,” the blond answered.

“Well, I do have a reputation for being pretty awesome,” Sam replied with a chuckle before turning back to Bucky.  “Just so happens that Steve here had an opening on his schedule this morning and agreed to work you out today.”

Bucky just blinked, expression blank as he tried to fully comprehend what he was hearing.

“If that’s alright with you, of course,” Sam added with a knowing smile.

“Yeah,” he finally answered when his brain and mouth finally decided to cooperate.  “Totally fine.”

“Shouldn’t you be leaving for your appointment now Sam?  Wouldn’t want you to be late,” Steve said as he stared intently at Bucky, his arms folded casually in front of his chest.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re either really eager to get rid of my bossy ass for a couple of hours OR really eager to spend some serious one-on-one time with the good Sergeant here, Cap,” Sam said playfully.

“Have a good one, Sam,” Steve said dodging the jab completely.  “See you later!”

“Ready Buck?” Steve asked with a smile far too wide and genuine for someone who was only professionally interested in helping a client.

“Work him hard, Cap!” Sam called after them as the other two men made their way down the hall.

Steve turned around, walking backwards next to Bucky.  He gave Sam a fiendish grin as he rubbed his hands together like some dastardly cartoon villain, “Oh, I will,” he said with a wink.  “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”

When Bucky and Steve disappeared from sight, Natasha strode out of Sam’s office and stood by his side.  “Ready to go?”

Sam reached out to take Natasha’s hand, casually lacing their fingers together.  He smiled at her brightly and said, “Girl, you are going to absolutely love this little diner I’m taking you to.  The chocolate chip pancakes are to die for!”

“Does Steve know your ‘appointment’ this morning is actually with me?” she asked as they meandered towards the lobby.

“Nope,” Sam replied, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.  “Told ‘em both I was headed off to see my chiropractor for a little realignment.”

“Hmmm,” she said with a little extra bounce in her step.  “And how long did you say you’d be gone?”

“A few hours,” Sam said now looking slightly concerned.  “That alright?”

“Perfect,” she said with a satisfied smirk.  “There’s something I want to show you after breakfast.”

***

Bucky followed Steve closely on the short walk to the long line of stationary bikes.  That familiar fluttering sensation was swirling in his gut—excitement at being in such close proximity to the buff blond who literally stole his breath away a few short nights ago in a narrow barroom hallway.  Or maybe it was nerves.  He couldn’t help but wonder if Steve actually remembered everything that had happened between them Friday night.  What if he didn’t remember any of it?  Or worse yet, what if he _did_ remember but regretted it now that the beer goggles were off?

Bucky was shaken from his reverie when Steve suddenly stopped in his tracks and gestured at the recumbent bike he wanted Bucky to be seated on with a smile.  Bucky shook his head to try and clear his racing mind as he adjusted the bike seat back to accommodate his long, powerful legs before sitting down.

“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Steve noted as Bucky got situated.

“Not really much of a morning person,” Bucky replied.  “Takes me awhile to get goin’ sometimes.”

“Well, let’s see if I can’t help you get up then,” Steve said as he tried unsuccessfully to hide the smirk on his lips.

_That little shit._

Features schooled once again, Steve instructed Bucky to start pedaling slowly at Level 1 to get the blood flowing.

“So,” Bucky started innocently.  “How was the rest of your weekend?”

"I’m not gonna lie,” Steve said as he reached over to notch the level up to 3 on the bike’s control panel.  “I had the hangover from hell on Saturday.  I skipped my morning run in the park—I _never_ skip my morning run—and laid on my couch most of the day waiting for the pain in my head to go away.  Then Sunday, I finally felt human enough to go and have brunch with my friend Tony.  What about you?”

Bucky shrugged as he continued pedaling, “Same as you on Saturday except I rode out my wave of anguish on Natasha’s couch.  Sunday I did a bunch of chores and stuff that needed to be done.  Shit that used to take me an hour that now takes the better part of a day,” he sighed glancing down at his empty sleeve.  “All in all, nothin’ too exciting.”  Then, feeling bold he added, “Especially not after Friday night.”

Steve smiled as he reached over to bump the bike tension to Level 5.  “Five more minutes.  C’mon Buck, pedal faster.”  Bucky shifted back in his seat and followed his trainer’s instructions.

He pedaled in silence for a few moments as Steve studied the papers attached to his clipboard.  As soon as Bucky began to break a sweat, Steve looked up and smirked.  “You must’ve had a good night,” he said as he reached out to brush the slightly faded bruise on Bucky’s throat with his fingertips.  “Looks like someone tried to devour you.”

Bucky slowed his pedaling to a snail's pace.  _Was this a joke or did Steve really not remember sucking his neck like a goddamn vampire while they fondled each other with reckless abandon in a public place?_   The look on Bucky’s face was apparently more than Steve could handle as he burst out laughing.  “Sorry,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.  Steve licked his lips as he rubbed his thumb in a slow circle over the mark he’d made.  “Guess I got a little carried away.”

Bucky went from completely incredulous to incredibly turned-on in two seconds flat.  He wanted nothing more in that instant than to pull Steve into his lap right there on the bike and rut against him like a dog in heat while sucking a mark or two of his own on Steve’s delectable skin.

Before Bucky had a chance to reply, Steve pulled his hand away from Bucky’s throat and reached over to hit the ‘Stop’ button on the bike.  “I think you’re probably warmed up enough now, right?” he asked, looking a little flustered himself.  “C’mon, we have a lot of work to do,” he said hurriedly as he turned and walked away.  Bucky remained stunned still on the bike, mentally reciting baseball stats until the obvious bulge in his shorts rescinded enough to allow him to stand and rejoin his troublemaking trainer.

Over the next forty minutes, Bucky forced himself to concentrate and work with Steve the same way he would’ve done with Sam.  Being a sniper required focus and discipline in the most difficult of times.  If he could hit a target from a mile away during heavy fire, he could get through a set of fucking leg presses with the hottest guy he’s ever seen, let alone kissed, standing next to him like a goddamn granite statue, smelling of soap and happiness while uttering words of encouragement with a low, sexy voice near his ear.

As they paused for a water break, Steve’s phone vibrated in his pocket.  He pulled it out to look at the screen briefly before shoving it right back in.

“You need to get that?” Bucky asked between long, loud gulps.

“Nah,” Steve said as they moved towards the free weights.  “It was just a text from Loki.  Nothing urgent.”

“Loki?” Bucky asked looking totally confused as he took his seat on the bench.

“Yeah.  You remember that guy that bought me that awful appletini on Friday?”  Steve didn’t wait for Bucky to answer as he handed Bucky a 25 pound dumbbell.  “Well, we exchanged numbers and he just texted me to see if I’d be interested in going out on a date with him this Saturday.  Some fancy new steakhouse called 'Asgard'?”

Bucky nearly dropped the weight in surprise.  “You gonna go?” he asked trying to mask the jealousy and fear in his voice.

“Gimme 10 good reps.  Let’s go.”

Bucky couldn’t hide the scowl on his face as he gritted through his set of bicep curls.  Half way through the set he grunted, “What the fuck kind of name is Loki anyway?”

“I dunno,” Steve answered.  “Watch your form.  Greek maybe?”

“Greek for ‘douchebag’?” Bucky huffed under his breath.

“I heard that,” Steve chuckled.  “Last one.  Nice and slow.”

Bucky finished the final rep and dropped the dumbbell to the floor.  He waited a moment to catch his breath before meeting Steve’s gaze expectantly.

“Well?” he asked growing impatient.

“Well, I guess that depends,” Steve said cryptically.  “He seems like a nice guy and all.  Not to mention tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious…”

“Steve!”

“Sorry.  Anyway, I guess it all depends on this other guy I met not too long ago.  I was actually holding out hope that he’d ask me out instead...”

Bucky’s eyes bulged out.  “Christ Rogers!  How many guys you got on the line at one time?  Save some for the rest of us!”

Steve threw his head back and placed a hand on his own chest as he laughed heartily.  “Nat wasn’t kidding when she’d said subtlety is lost on you was she?” he chuckled.  Bucky’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

He punched the brunet lightly on the shoulder.  “I’m talking about you, jerk,” Steve said with a coy smile.

Bucky’s eyes grew wide with sudden understanding and excitement.  “You mean me?  You’d like to ask, I mean you were hoping that I’d ask you out on a date?” he stuttered, hoping like hell he hadn’t misinterpreted what Steve had said.

Steve, looked suddenly unsure of himself as he absently rubbed the back of his neck and answered, “Well, only if want to go out with me.  Obviously.  I mean, I had a really nice—well maybe nice isn’t actually the right word?  Anyway, Friday was incredible but we were both pretty drunk and I just—“

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted to the rambling blond’s apparent relief.  “Would you please go out on a date with me this Saturday?”

Steve beamed brightly and nodded, “Yes.  I’d love to.”

Bucky stood up and pulled his phone out of his pocket.  “Maybe I could get your number now?”

Steve pulled his phone out too.  “Only if I can have yours too,” he smiled.

Bucky typed Steve’s number into his phone and then hit the call button to send his to Steve’s phone.  Steve attached Bucky’s name to the number and added him to his contacts.  Then he pulled up his text app and started typing.  Bucky stood there dumbly and watched.

“Sorry,” Steve said as his fingers tapped deftly over his screen.  “Just letting Loki know that it was nice meeting him and all but I’m not able to go out with him this weekend.”

Bucky looked up at him curiously, itching to ask Steve if he _ever_ intended to go on a date with this other guy but knowing it wasn’t really his place to ask.  Turns out he didn’t have to.

“Or probably ever,” Steve added quietly as he finished up and hit the ‘send’ button before slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise.  Steve smiled and nodded for them to move to the next station.  “I explained that the guy that I’d told him about over drinks last Friday—the one I’ve had a major crush on—finally asked me out so…”

Despite biting down on his own bottom lip, Bucky couldn’t stop the smile that pulled up the corners of his mouth.  “You talked about having a crush on me with a guy that just bought you a drink?  That’s kinda rude dontcha think?”

“Well, he asked if I was seeing anyone and I said, ‘No, but I sorta had my eye on someone else.’  I didn’t want to lead him on, you know?  I couldn’t help it… I’m always honest,” he said with a shrug.

Bucky just shook his head.   Was there anything about Steve Rogers that wasn’t perfect?

“Besides,” Steve added as he grabbed a couple of yoga mats and laid them out on the floor.  “He freaked me out a little when I asked him what he did for a living.  He never really answered me other than to say he was ‘burdened with glorious purpose’ or some shit.  I’m pretty sure I don’t wanna even know what that means.”

Bucky barked out a laugh as he eased down to the floor, stretched out on his mat and consciously squelched the overwhelming urge he had to shout for everyone in the club to hear, _“I’m going on a date with Steve!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Bucky & Steve go out on their first real date!! Live for your feedback - good, bad, or otherwise - so leave a comment please! Thank you!!


	7. Slip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve go on their date, and enjoy some 'dessert' at Steve's place afterwards. Wink, wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is officially the longest chapter I've ever written. You've all been waiting so patiently for the explicit rating to be earned in this fic and I can say for certain that day is here and now. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Also, I'm posting this very late so please excuse any major errors. I'll try to read through and fix anything I find shortly but feel free to let me know too please. Thanks!!

Natasha was swirling a forkful of thick, fluffy, chocolate chip pancakes into a small lagoon of warm maple syrup in the middle of the plate that she was sharing with Sam when her phone vibrated on the table.

**_Guess what???_ **

**_What?_ **

**_I have a date with Steve!!  I asked him to go out this Saturday and he said ‘Yes!’  He fucking said ‘Yes!’_ **

Natasha smiled as best she could with her cheeks stuffed full with gooey, fluffy, chocolatey goodness as she held her phone up for Sam to see.

“Yeah boy!” Sam cheered with a wide grin.  “Mission accomplished,” he added holding up his coffee mug to toast his cunning co-conspirator.  She raised her mug and tapped it gently to Sam’s, took a slow sip and set it back down before quickly typing back a response.

**_Of course he did.  He’d be a fool not to._ **

**_Thanks, Nat.  You’re sweet._ **

**_Not as sweet as these chocolate chip pancakes!_ **

Nat snapped a picture of the sinful looking half-eaten stack with a partial, background-blurred image of Sam happily cradling his coffee mug and sent it to Bucky.

**_Fuck those look good.  Wait… is that Sam with you?_ **

Natasha pressed and held a button down on the side of her phone to power it down before placing it in her backpack.  “So, about what I wanted to show you after breakfast…” she said with a mischievous grin as she rubbed her foot along Sam’s leg under the table.  “My apartment’s just a couple blocks away...”

Sam cleared his throat loudly and shot his hand up in the air to flag down their waitress.  “Check please!!”

***

It all started out innocently enough.  Monday night as Bucky reached into his fridge to grab a takeout container filled with leftover chicken fried rice, his phone vibrated and chirped on the kitchen counter.  After popping open the little paper box and shoveling a heaping spoonful of cold, salty rice into his mouth, he swiped his finger to unlock the screen only to find his very first text message from Steve.

It contained only one word, **_“Hi.”_**   And the single hottest selfie that Bucky’d ever seen attached right below.  Bucky nearly choked on the masticated rice ball now stuck in his throat as he stared at the super sweet yet sexy-as-hell picture of Steve.  He was sitting shirtless on his sofa—his broad, muscled shoulders, the tops of his firm, rounded pecs and a portion of one thick, toned arm stretched out in front of him to hold his phone filled his display.  Steve’s blond hair was damp and adorably mussed undoubtedly from being very recently roughly towel dried.  Bucky could practically smell the scent of Steve’s soap on his freshly-showered skin through the small screen and his mouth began to water.  The shy, unassuming smile on Steve’s model-worthy face made Bucky’s heart skip a beat as he found himself staring into sky-blue eyes and replying quietly, “Hi,” aloud to his empty apartment and the mesmerizing image on his phone.

Bucky waited until he was lying comfortably in his bed to answer Steve’s message with a picture of his own.  He was completely naked between soft, navy blue, cotton sheets.  The top one strategically pulled down to his hips, one side more exposed than the other to reveal a prominent bone protruding temptingly beneath the edge of the fabric.  His nearly shoulder-length hair was fanned out messily on the pillow beneath his head as he looked sleepily into the lens under half-hooded eyes and snapped the sinful selfie.

He typed **_“Hi.”_** back to Steve and attached the photo.  He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the ‘Send’ button as he studied the picture.  He was proud of his newly toned torso—the results of his of hard work and dedication at the club were becoming more obvious by the day.  His hair looked perfectly disheveled, practically begging for Steve to run his fingers through it and— _please dear God—_ yank on it.  But his shoulder.  He stared uncomfortably at all that remained of his left arm, wincing as his eyes wandered over the gnarled, knobby, useless stump.  He considered cropping the image—Steve didn’t really need to be reminded of his inadequacies—but then he took a deep breath and shook his head.  Like it or not, this was who he was now and Steve hadn’t seemed to mind so far.  So, before he had a chance to change his mind, he quickly tapped his thumb on the screen and sent the message before dropping his phone by his side and anxiously scrubbing his hand over his face while he waited for a reply.

He didn’t have to wait very long.  Ten seconds later he felt his phone vibrating on the mattress.  His hand flew out and scrambled wildly through the soft folds of his comforter until he’d found it and quickly unlocked the screen.

_**Wow.** _

Well, fuck.  Was that _“Wow, that’s hot!”_ or a _“Wow, that’s gro_ _ss!”_ or a _“Wow, you conceited narcissist!”_?  It was times like these that Bucky fucking hated texting.  There was just too much room for misinterpretation.  Isn’t this why they invented emojis?  He started to feel the overwhelming sense of regret washing over him at sending such a bold photo when his phone buzzed again in hand.

_**Stunning.** _

Bucky felt the blush heating his cheeks as he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and grinned happily as he read and re-read that one, little word.  He pushed himself up to sit with his back against the headboard and thought about how to respond.  He laid his phone in his lap and began tapping away on the virtual keyboard as swiftly as possible with this index finger before sending off his reply.  It was only after he’d already hit the ‘Send’ button and excitedly read his own response that he noticed the absolutely horrific typo that was staring him in the face.  He’d intended to explain away his exhausted appearance—the product of his demanding workout with Steve earlier that day.  Instead, he battled the urge to throw up or throw himself off of the roof of his apartment building at what he’d actually sent to Steve by accident instead.

**_This is what I look like after getting my ass licked._ **

“Licked?” he yelled aloud as his eyes grew wide with a mixture of disbelief and panic.  “ _Licked???_   Mother fucking autocorrect!!  _Kicked!_   I typed _kicked!_ ” he continued to futilely rant.  He glared at the device in his shaking hand, wanting so badly to throw it against the nearest wall and smash it into a million pieces but unable to actually do so because he needed the goddamn thing to live almost as much as he needed oxygen to breathe.

“Fucking technology!  You evil piece of shit!” he scolded his unapologetic phone one last time before rifling out another message as fast as he could in an effort to salvage any shred of dignity he might have left.

**_Kicked not licked!  I typed kicked.  I swear Steve… you gotta believe me!  Fucking autocorrect!  I hate my fucking phone and it’s traitorous, conniving keyboard from hell!!!_ **

Bucky read the message over quickly checking for mistakes before firing it off to Steve.  He didn’t want to let too much time pass and let the blond think he’d _actually_ just been rimmed by god-knows-who to the point of nearly passing out and having the gall to brag about it to the guy he just asked out on a date this Saturday night.  Bucky was so stressed out over his texting faux paus that he couldn’t bear to just sit there and wait for Steve’s response.  He forced himself out of bed, leaving the little electronic bastard on his nightstand as he padded down the hall to take a piss and grab a glass of water.  As soon as he returned, his eyes focused in on the little blue notification light flashing in the top left corner of the screen.  He crawled back under the covers ready to pull them over his head and hide from the world.  When he finally worked up the nerve he opened Steve’s reply and couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled up in his chest as he read it.

**_HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!  I’m sorry, but that was fucking PRICELESS!!!_ **

Bucky shook his head and thought about he’d react if the shoe were on the other foot and, yeah, it was pretty fucking priceless.

**_Glad you’re getting some amusement from my complete and utter humiliation, Steve.  Remember what I said Friday night about you always being so nice all of the time?  I think I may have rushed to judgment._ **

Before Bucky sent the message, he added a smiling, winking emoji just to be sure that Steve knew he was only kidding.

**_Talk about a ‘slip of the tongue!’_ **

**_Really, Steve? *smacks face with palm*_ **

**_Ha!  Sorry – couldn’t help myself._ **

**_Sigh..._ **

**_Anyway, I kinda figured you might’ve made a mistake.  Well, at least I hoped so.  I mean, I’ve never really ‘sexted’ with anyone before but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t usually involve describing what someone else has done to you?_ **

**_In my defense, the ‘K’ and the ‘L’ are RIGHT next to each other on that little goddamn keyboard._ **

**_Could’ve happened to anyone…_ **

**_Yeah, but it always seems to happen to me.  FML._ **

**_Remind me to tell you about the time I accidentally sent a text I intended for my then-girlfriend to her sister instead._ **

**_Ha!  I can’t wait to hear this!_ **

**_It’s a great date night story.  I gotta try to get some rest now, sorry.  I have a client at 5:30 a.m._ **

**_Nobody should be exercising at that ungodly hour._ **

**_I like to start KICKING asses early.  See you around the club tomorrow?_ **

**_I hope so._ **

**_Me too.  Goodnight Buck._ **

**_Night Steve._ **

Bucky sighed and stretched out, settling in under the warm cocoon of covers.  He scrolled back through their message thread and chuckled again at his ridiculous mistake.  Natasha was going to die laughing.  Might as well make the most of his mortification.  When he got back to the beginning of their conversation, he opened the picture that started it all.  Bucky stared wantonly at the funny, sweet, strikingly gorgeous guy on his screen.  He looked so innocent.  What a ruse.  Steve was also smart and sarcastic and a bit of an instigator and Bucky fucking loved it.  He relaxed into his pillow and closed his eyes hoping he’d drift off to sleep but his mind kept wandering back to Steve.  To kissing him, making him laugh, touching him, tasting him, making him moan and scream Bucky’s name.  _Fuck._   Bucky lifted up the covers and looked down at his growing erection.  The number of times he’d already jerked-off thinking about Steve by now was bordering on unnatural.  Eh… what was one more going to hurt?

Bucky reached down and wrapped his hand around his thickening shaft, giving a few good, languid pulls.  Suddenly hot and hampered between the sheets, he shoved the blankets down to his knees and began to stroke himself in earnest as he pictured Steve fulfilling his mistaken message, licking eagerly over his hole and plunging the tip of his tongue inside as far as it would go.  One minute later Bucky came hard, spilling his release all over his chest and Steve’s name from his parted lips.  Completely exhausted and too lazy to get out of bed, he grabbed a dirty t-shirt off of the floor and wiped himself clean before he tossed it back on the floor, pulled the comforter up to his chin and fell fast asleep.

***

Bucky did see Steve at the club the following day.  He was once again forced to watch that clingy little blonde bitch _(Sharon was it?)_ fawn all over Steve as they moved from machine to machine.  Bucky gritted his teeth from his spot doing ab crunches on the floor, trying not to look like an angry serial killer as he glared at the annoying woman commanding Steve’s undivided attention.  Steve glanced over and caught the brunet scowling.  A barely noticeable smirk curved the corner of his lips up as he reached for his phone and quickly tapped on the screen.  Two seconds later, Bucky’s own vibrated in his pocket.  His cheeks flushed pink as he read the message.

**_Something bothering you soldier?_ **

**_Not something.  Someone.  Does she honestly expect anyone to believe she doesn’t know how to use a lat pulldown?  I could be missing BOTH arms and one of my legs and still not need that much hands-on ‘help’._ **

He was about to type another message when Sam called him out.

“Put that thing away Sarge,” he admonished as he glanced at his watch before shooting a look at the opposite side of the room where Steve stood looking at his phone with a massive grin on his face.

“You can flirt with Steve to your heart’s content in anotherrrr… seventeen minutes.  Until then, your ass belongs to me.  Now give me another 20.”

“I wasn’t flir—“

“Whatever,” Sam interrupted, putting his hand to stop any additional protest.  “Steve doesn’t look like a giddy school boy over there because of her,” he nodded in Sharon’s direction.  “Now, get to work.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky sighed with an exaggerated eye roll before laying back down on the mat not even attempting to hide the smug smile that was spreading on his face.

***

As the week wore on, Bucky became both more excited and more anxious about his pending date with Steve.  They’d exchanged a number of flirty texts and agreed that Bucky would choose where they’d be going for dinner.  He could hardly wait to surprise Steve by taking him to one of his all-time favorite haunts—a little known Italian joint buried deep in the heart of Brooklyn that made up for anything it lacked in ambience with phenomenal food, reasonable prices and service that couldn’t be beat.  Besides, the owner Carmela absolutely adored Bucky and would do everything in her power to ensure that his first date with the handsome trainer wouldn’t be his last.  With a romantic corner table secured, Bucky turned to his closet and began to rifle through it in search of the perfect outfit.  As he slid the hangers from side-to-side, the voices in his mind making him doubt his every decision began to perk up.

 _What if Steve doesn’t like Italian food?  That dude Steve met at Quiver offered to take him out to a fancy, new steakhouse.  Would Steve be disappointed by the small, old-fashioned, hole-in-the-wall he planned to take him to?_   _Fuck._

The more Bucky realized just how little he knew about Steve and his likes and dislikes, passions and pursuits, the heavier his breathing grew and the more drops of sweat that formed on his troubled brow.  It was only Wednesday night and he already needed an intervention.  He snatched his phone from the nightstand charger, dialed it quickly and held it up to his ear while he anxiously paced a path back and forth on his narrow bedroom floor waiting for Nat to pick up.

“Yes?” Nat she finally answered drowsily.

“Oh shit.  I’m sorry… did I wake you up?”  Bucky asked nervously glancing at the alarm clock on his nightstand.  “It’s only 9:30, I didn’t think you’d be asleep yet.”

“I wasn’t,” she answered.  “Are you okay?  You usually text before you call.”

“Um… yeah, I’m fine,” he fibbed.  “If you weren’t asleep then why do you sound—”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Natasha said sounding muffled as she spoke to someone else.  _Oh._

“Why do I sound what?” Natasha asked with a teasing lilt.  “Utterly exhausted from the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life?”

“Nat!  I really don’t need to hear this!” Bucky yelled.  “Especially not while Sam is lying right there next to you for fuck’s sake.”

Natasha chuckled, “Who said anything about Sam?” she barely managed to say before yelping loudly, “Ouch!”

Bucky snorted a laugh of his own before replying, “Tell him I said ‘Hi!’ and ‘Sorry for interrupting.’  I’ll just talk with you later, okay?”

“Wait,” Natasha said.  “Why’d you call, James?”

“Just wanted your advice about something,” he said sheepishly.  “It’s not important.  Really.”

“I’m free tomorrow night.  You pick up the shrimp Pad Thai and I’ll bring the beer.  Deal?” Nat offered.

Bucky sighed with relief, feeling the tension drain from his body.  “Deal.”

“Now quit worrying and get some rest,” she said with a yawn.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“G’night Sarge!” Sam shouted in the background before Nat broke out into what could only have been a fit of tickle-induced giggles as she hung up the phone.

Bucky shook his head amusedly, tapped his phone against his upturned lips and murmured to himself, “Goodnight.”

***

The following evening as Bucky and Natasha settled onto his couch with heaping plates of Pad Thai in their laps and the six pack of ice cold beer Natasha had promised sitting on the coffee table, Bucky had completely forgotten the pangs of panic that had nearly overwhelmed him the evening before,.  They ate in companionable silence for a moment outside of the occasionally obscene moans of pleasure they each made around those first insanely satisfying bites.

“Damn, this is tasty,” Natasha said before shoving another forkful into her mouth.  She closed her eyes to focus on the flavors mixing in her mouth and continued praising, “Can’t remember the last time I had something this good.”

Bucky took a swig from his beer and chuckled as he put the bottle back on the table, “I don’t know… you sounded pretty damn satisfied last night.”

The faintest hint of blush stained her cheeks as she took a long draw from her own drink.  “Well, I won’t deny that,” she replied, arching one eyebrow smugly as she put her bottle down and poked around in the pile of noodles on her plate.  “But, I’m not here to talk about my love life,” she said before piercing a piece of shrimp with the tines of her fork.  “Gotcha!”  She pointed the skewered morsel at Bucky.  “I’m here to talk about yours,” she added before shoving the whole thing in her mouth with zeal.  She mumbled around mouthful as she chewed, “So talk… what’s going on?”

Bucky looked down at his still-full plate.  He went from ravenous to nearly nauseous in a few short breaths as his appetite instantly evaporated.  He sighed heavily and put the plate down on table.  He scrubbed his hand over his face and mumbled into his palm.  “You know me, Nat.  Just over-thinking things.  Mountains out of mole hills, yada, yada, yada…”

“You do that with everything,” she replied idly twirling a massive spindle of noodles onto her fork.  “Where’re you taking him?”

“Carmela’s.  I know she’ll take good care of us and the food will be amazing as usual but what if he doesn’t like Italian?” he started.

“Everybody likes Italian,” Natasha said rolling her eyes.

“Not everyone.  You’ve seen Steve, right?  Does it look like the guy carb-loads on lasagna every day?” Bucky pouted.  “That’s part of the problem, really.  I barely know Steve.  I don’t know what he likes to eat or where he’s from, if he has any brothers or sisters… you know, important things!”

Natasha laughed and shook her head.  “That’s kind of the point of dating, James.”  She put her plate down and took his hand in both of hers, rubbing his knuckles with the pads of her thumbs.

“And, the way I hear it, you might’ve been the one who asked Steve out but he all but begged you to first.”

Bucky looked at her surprised, unsure of how she’d learned that little detail.

“Which means,” she continued “he’s going to be happy to go wherever you take him and enjoy doing whatever you’ve got planned because he clearly wants to spend time with you and get to know you better.”

Bucky exhaled with a small smile, his body relaxing along with his mind.

“Besides, you know at least one important thing about him.  He seems to enjoy kissing you.”

Bucky blushed a little at that shook his head, “I always seem to do things a little unconventionally don’t I?”

“Well, at least it won’t be awkward when it’s time to say ‘goodnight’,” she said standing up and pulling Bucky up with her.  “Now, let’s go tackle the real source of your anxiety,” Natasha said with a smile as she tugged him towards the bedroom.  “I already know exactly what you should wear.”

***

Bucky somehow managed to make it through the rest of the week.  Between being slammed at work with a brand new design project and the intensive workout sessions at the club, he’d barely had time to shower, eat and sleep let alone worry about his date.  But now that he was fidgeting nervously in the back of the cab on the way to Steve’s place, he took a deep breath and remembered Natasha’s soothing words from the other night.

When the taxi pulled up in front of Steve’s building, Bucky’s jaw damn near dropped to the floor.  How in the hell was a former military captain-turned-trainer able to afford a condo in a building like this?  Every ridiculous possibility rushed through his brain as he waited for Steve to emerge through the front door.  _Trust fund kid?  Drug dealer?  Male escort?_ Bucky laughed at himself.  Steve couldn’t be any of those things.  Just didn’t fit.  He was stirred from his reverie when the door to the cab opened.  Steve slid inside next to Bucky, warm smile fixed on his face and a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

“Hi!” Steve said enthusiastically.  Bucky would swear that if Steve had a tail, it’d be wagging right now.

“Hi!” Bucky replied, his own dopey smile stretching uncontrollably across his features.  Yeah, okay… make that two tails wagging.

Bucky tapped the divider window to prompt the driver to go.

“Man, I thought this night was never going to get here,” Steve said rubbing his hands back and forth along his thighs expelling nervous energy.  “Felt like the longest week in forever!”

Bucky chuckled and nodded in agreement.  “I know what you mean… been counting down the days myself.”

“So, where’re we going?” Steve asked eagerly.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Bucky replied.  “Hope you’re hungry.”

Ten minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of the tiny restaurant front.  The aged canvas canopy that hung above the front door was weather-worn—faded from what was probably once a deep garnet shade to a light, dusky rose.  The once white trim that bordered the scalloped edge was tattered and gray, darkened by exhaust and dirt.  If Steve was put off by the unkempt exterior of the place, he gave no outward indication of his disappointment.  He just stood patiently on the narrow city sidewalk as he waited for Bucky to pay their driver.

“I wish you would’ve let me get that,” Steve said as Bucky turned away from the departing taxi.

“Sorry, but as the ‘date-asker-outer’ it’s my right and responsibility, in fact, to pick up the tab for all expenses incurred during our time together this evening,” Bucky argued teasingly as he held the door to Carmela’s open for Steve.

Steve shook his head in defeat and stepped over the threshold.  “Fine.  Just remember these rules when I take _you_ out next time.”

Bucky was about to respond when he was suddenly rushed by a petite older woman wearing a flared red dress with a black scalloped apron tied around her small waist.  Her jet black hair, with a few stray strands of gray running through it, was pulled neatly into a tight bun set high on the back of her head.

“James!” she bellowed as she wrapped her tiny arms around his waist and pulled him into an exuberant hug.  She pulled back and cupped her hands on his face.  “It’s so good to see you!  How’ve you been?”

“Good Carmela,” he answered genially.  “Really good,” he added glancing at Steve.

Her amber brown eyes followed Bucky’s and a warm smile lit up her face as she stepped away from Bucky and threw her arms around Steve.  Bucky laughed at the startled look on Steve’s face as the woman rocked them back and forth in her steel trap embrace.

“You must be Steve!” she said as she stepped back just a bit, still holding onto the blond by the elbows.  She turned to look at Bucky and waggled her eyebrows in approval.  “He’s even more handsome than you described.  Molto bello!” she said squeezing Steve’s arms before letting go.  “Come, your table’s all ready,” she said nodding for them to follow her.

She lead them back through the small, cozy and filled-to-capacity dining room and right to a table for two tucked away in the far corner.  “Sophia will be waiting on you tonight.  Buon Appetito!”

“So, I take it you’ve been here before,” Steve joked as they removed their coats and settled into their seats.

“Yeah,” Bucky laughed.  “Might not look like much but the food is to die for and you won’t get better service anywhere in Brooklyn.”

“I can tell,” he replied with a smirk.

Just then, a much younger doppelganger of Carmela appeared and placed a basket of warm, sliced bread and a pot of softened butter on their table.  Just like her mother, she immediately leaned down and threw her arms around Bucky’s neck to pull him into a breath-stealing hug.  “Oh my god!  When mom told me you were coming in tonight with a date I was SO excited!”

She stood back and beamed at Steve, her dark, curly pony tail swaying like a pendulum as she bounced on the balls of her feet waiting for a proper introduction.

“Sophia, this is Steve Rogers.  Steve, Sophia.”

Steve stood up and took Sophia’s delicate hand in his, bowing slightly to drop a soft kiss to the top of her knuckles.  “A pleasure to meet you.”

Sophia smiled coyly, a light blush staining her cheeks as Steve released her hand and sat back down.  “Wow.  I think I’ll go get you two a wine list before I swoon on the spot.  Be right back,” she said turning on her heel to walk away.  She’d only made it about two steps before pivoting back in an awkward jerky spin.  “Oh, and it’s nice to meet you too Steve.”

Bucky and Steve both chuckled at their flustered server, especially when she walked into a neighboring table on her way to retrieve the wine list, apologizing profusely to its startled occupants.

“Nice one, Steve.  I think you just broke Sophia,” Bucky said with the same goofy grin that seemed to take up permanent residence on his face whenever he was around Steve.

“What a sweetheart.  They both seem like genuinely nice people Buck,” he replied.  “I can see why you like it here so much.”

“Yeah, they’re awesome.  But just wait ‘til you try the chicken parm!  I mean, if you… eat that sort of thing,” Bucky added hesitantly.

Steve pulled a thick slice of bread from the basket and slathered it with a generous dollop of softened butter.  “Believe it or not,” he said as he artfully covered every morsel with the decadent spread, “I pretty much eat whatever I want on weekends.”  He held the bread up to Bucky’s mouth and smiled as he watched the brunet take a hearty bite.  “Especially,” he said, pausing to wipe an errant blob of butter from the corner of Bucky’s mouth gently with his thumb, “On weekends when I have a hot date,” he added before seductively sucking the butter off of the tip of his own thumb.  Bucky stopped chewing to swallow loudly as he watched Steve take a large bite of his own off of the same slice, grinning mischievously at his wide-eyed date as best he could around a massive mouthful of bread.

Just then, Sophia reappeared with the wine list and two menus in hand.  “Okay, Carmela asked me to inform you that she’s planned a special tasting menu for you tonight so you could sample all of James’ favorite dishes—and there’s _a lot_ of ‘em,” she laughed.  “Unless, of course, you’d rather order off of the menu in which case—”

“That sounds wonderful,” Steve interjected, smiling at both of them.

“Excellent.  Might I suggest a nice bottle of our house Cabernet then to go along with it?” she said as she held the wine list out to Bucky.

Bucky nodded and waved off the menu.  “You have impeccable taste, Soph.  I’m sure it’ll pair perfectly.”

She smiled at Bucky warmly before casting a furtive glance towards Steve.  “As do you, James.”

***

Two hours later, Steve and Bucky had polished off two full bottles of wine, and a varied and veritable mountain of delicious Italian food.  During their meal, Bucky learned that Steve grew up in Brooklyn an only child.  His dad had died in the service when Steve was just a baby and his mother, Sarah, was a recently retired nurse living in DUMBO who’d apparently spent a good many of her days making sure her sometimes-sickly, skin-and-bones son survived until puberty.  Although Bucky had a hard time believing that Steve could’ve ever been scrawny given his enviously buff build now, the sincerity in Steve’s voice and the obvious reverence he had for his mother dispelled any of Bucky’s doubts.  Still, he made Steve promise him he’d show him a picture of his formerly gangly self sometime to prove it.  He also learned that when Steve wasn’t busy helping people to sculpt their bodies, he liked to relax by sculpting clay, putting paint to canvas or pencil to sketch pad.  He didn’t claim to possess great talent but it was something he was clearly passionate about and Bucky just knew that it would be reflected in his art.

Steve learned that Bucky also grew up in Brooklyn just far enough from Steve to keep them in different schools.  He’d had a fairly happy childhood being fairly spoiled as the only boy amongst three sisters.  When his dad’s company offered him a significant promotion, his parents packed them all up and moved the family to Connecticut shortly after Bucky enlisted.  Only his younger sister Rebecca moved back to New York to attend college and currently resided in Queens.  He also learned that Bucky shared his enthusiasm for the arts and had once aspired to be a musician.  He’d had an innate talent for playing piano, but could also get by on the guitar, drums, bass, and—if forced—saxophone.  His mother insisted he learn that one in high school.  Of all the things he missed the most following his injury, the ability to play topped the list.  Just like Steve and his art, music had always been Bucky’s way to truly express himself—his joys, his fears, his sorrows and frustrations.  It was hard not to have that kind of outlet now, but he’d eventually come to terms with it just like everything else.

Not wanting to put a total downer on the evening, Bucky quickly shifted gears to focus on work.  He talked about his job as a graphic designer at SHIELD and made Steve snort with laughter over some of his unnerving encounters with his frightening boss Nick Fury.  That naturally led to discussing Steve’s job at Rally and just how much he enjoyed working for Sam.  Steve said he’d never worked for someone so down-to-earth in his life and admitted that Sam was the main reason he’d agreed to take the job at all.

Bucky shook his head, arched an eyebrow towards Steve and warned, “Sam used to be a great guy.  Natasha’s doing her damnedest to corrupt that poor, unsuspecting soul.”  He went on to tell Steve how Nat and Sam had plotted over pancakes to get them together at the beginning of the week.  Steve nearly choked on his wine as he burst out laughing.

“Wilson, you dirty little liar,” Steve mused aloud as he leaned back in his chair and placed his napkin on the table.  “Ya know, I’d normally plot to get someone back for pulling a fast one on me,” he said as he scratched absently at the nape of his neck, “but I think I’ll let it slide this time.”

Bucky chuckled as he too slouched back in his chair, feeling impossibly full and wishing he hadn’t eaten that last lobster ravioli when Carmela approached again.

“Did you boys leave some room for my world-famous, homemade tiramisu?”

Both men groaned in unison, reflexively reaching for their guts.

“Carmela, thank you.  Everything was absolutely scrumptious.  But if I take one more bite of anything at all I am literally going to explode,” Bucky said.

“That was honestly the best meal I’ve had in a very long time.  And the service was impeccable too.  Thank you.  Really… for everything,” Steve added earnestly.

“Oh James,” Carmela blushed as she fanned herself with a dessert menu.  “He’s a keeper.  I can just tell already,” she said with a grin for Steve and a wink for Bucky.

Sophia came up and grabbed her mother firmly by the shoulders, physically turning her away from the table and back towards the kitchen.  “Mama!  Stop embarrassing them!  Jeez!”  Carmela just giggled softly as she turned to walk away.  “You boys come back for dinner again soon, okay?  Okay.  Ciao!”

After Bucky paid their check and left a substantial tip for Sophia, the two men shrugged their coats back on and made their way towards the door.

“Wanna walk a bit before we hail a cab?” Bucky asked as they stepped out together into the cold evening air.  “Might makes us feel a little better about the stunning display of gluttony we just put on in there.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Steve chortled.

They’d just started walking down the street when Bucky felt Steve reach down for his hand.  His heart fluttered with excitement as he felt Steve’s long, warm fingers lace with his own.  Bucky bit his lip to try and contain his utter delight as he stared down at the sidewalk passing beneath their feet.

“This okay?” Steve asked giving Bucky’s hand a light squeeze.

Bucky looked at Steve shyly and nodded.  “’S perfect.”  _You’re perfect._

They’d only made it a couple of blocks in the frigid air before they were both starting to shiver.  Steve had dropped Bucky’s hand only to quickly wrap an arm around his waist instead, pulling him closer to his side as they moved towards the curb to wave down a taxi.

After they slipped inside the back of the warm, waiting car, Steve quickly gave the driver his address and sat back, immediately wrapping his arm back around Bucky’s shoulders.  Bucky hummed contentedly as he nestled closer and rested his head on Steve’s broad shoulder.  As the cab maneuvered back into the busy streets, Bucky suddenly remembered the flurry of questions that had entered his mind when he’d picked Steve up outside of his lavish building.  He sat up straight so he could look Steve in the eye.

“I don’t mean to get in your business so feel free to tell me to ‘fuck off’ if you want to but I was just wondering how you can afford your place on a personal trainer’s salary?  I mean, I know for damn sure your army pension ain’t enough to cover it.”

Steve huffed a laugh and looked out the window.  “Well, you’re not wrong about that.  And, no, personal training isn’t _that_ lucrative.”  He turned to face Bucky and continued, “Call it insanely unfair rent control.  My good friend Tony owns the building.  And when I finally left the service, he absolutely insisted that I live there.  I tried to argue with him for a while knowing full well that what I could afford to pay him would be a tiny drop in the bucket.”  Steve shook his head and chuckled, “But arguing with Tony Stark is like arguing with a—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Did you just say Tony Stark?” Bucky interrupted looking appropriately shocked.  “As in _the_ Tony Stark?  The famous billionaire genius inventor with the giant tower in midtown that has his name glowing at the top of it?”

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “Um, yeah.  We’ve known each other since we were kids.  Our parents were friends so we always got thrown in together.  He’s like a big brother to me.  I know he has a bit of a reputation for being… well, whatever.  But with people he trusts?  He’s fiercely loyal, a little overprotective, and exceedingly generous.  He also happens to be the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.  I knew he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings after he’d gone through so much trouble to have the place furnished and decorated for me.  Anyway, that’s how a guy like me ended up in a place like that.”

“What a martyr,” Bucky teased nudging Steve in the shoulder.  “Seriously… I’m glad you’ve got someone watching out for you,” he said more sincerely.

“Thanks,” Steve said reaching down to hold Bucky’s hand again.  “I’d really like you to meet him sometime.  Not only because he’s my best friend, but because I think he might be able to help you.”

“Help me?” Bucky asked confused.

Steve hesitated for a moment before gathering the courage to explain.

“Tony and his team at SI have recently pioneered some incredibly functional prosthetic limbs and you might just be a perfect candidate.  If you want… I mean obviously I like you the way you are and I don’t want you to think that _I_ think—“

“Please stop before you hurt yourself,” Bucky chuckled.  “Can I think about it?” he asked giving Steve’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, ‘course,” Steve smiled.

As if on cue, right then the cab rolled to a stop in front of Steve’s building.  Despite how relaxed they’d both been all evening, now there was an undeniable sense of apprehension in the air.

“I had a really great time tonight,” Bucky started.

“Me too,” Steve answered.  He glanced at the cab driver in the rear view mirror and appreciated that the middle-aged man appeared to be busy looking at his phone, having already turned the meter off as he waited patiently for the pair to say their goodbyes.

“Hey, would you like to maybe come in for a nightcap?”

Bucky snorted with laughter, “A nightcap?  How old are you Steve?  Ninety-five?  Who the fuck says that anymore?”  Steve looked down at the floor, his cheeks stained with obvious embarrassment.

“Christ, you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Bucky blurted.

“Yeah?” Steve asked looking up at him through his ridiculously long eyelashes.

“Yeah.  And I’d love to.”

***

The doorman greeted them cheerfully as they approached.  “Evening, Mister Rogers.  Sir,” he said acknowledging Bucky.  “Beautiful day in the neighborhood wasn’t it?”

“Happy, _please_ stop,” Steve whined.  “And for the millionth time, call me Steve.  I’m begging you.”

“Sorry,” Happy said with a completely unapologetic grin.  “Mister Stark’s orders.”

Steve just groaned as he led a still giggling Bucky through the marble covered lobby and towards the elevator bank.

“I think I might really like Tony,” he snickered.

“I’m sure the two of you would get along swimmingly,” Steve said aiming for sarcastic but sounding fonder than anything else as they stepped into the lift.  Steve stepped close to the control panel and stood perfectly still while a small band of red light quickly flickered over his eye.  A moment later, the dulcet tones of a woman’s voice filled the car.  “Retinal scan complete.  Welcome back, Captain Rogers.”

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” was all Bucky could manage as he stood by and watched stupefied.

Steve just stepped back shrugged as the elevator took off without further instruction.  “Tony keeps the penthouse,” he said as if that explained the secret service level of security.

“Huh,” Bucky replied, not sure of what else to say in that moment.

When the elevator opened to a small hallway with only two possible residence doors, Bucky was a little surprised.  But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt as he entered the posh apartment that Steve just unlocked using only his thumbprint.

Bucky’s eyes grew comically wide as he took in his surroundings.  There were floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the exterior walls offered sweeping views of the vibrant city skyline.  It took a couple of minutes for it to fully register in the former sniper’s brain that Steve’s condo took up an entire half of the building floor.  There was a massive private balcony that ran along the exterior of the glass wall, with a nearly invisible set of sliding glass doors set in the middle of the wall to access it.  There was a step up to the massive chef’s kitchen appointed with gleaming black granite countertops, white washed wood cabinets, and oversized stainless steel appliances.  The opposite side of the floor was divided into smaller rooms that Bucky could only presume were the master and guest bedrooms and baths.

“Holy shit,” Bucky muttered as he shuffled a little further inside, stepping tentatively on the natural, exposed hardwood floors as though he might fall through them.

“I know,” Steve said rubbing the back of his neck, flushing once again.  “It’s… I felt the same way the first time I saw it.  It’s too much… I’m sorry—“

“Sorry?”  Bucky interrupted incredulously.  “For what?  This place is amazing Steve!  In fact, if I lived here, I’m pretty sure I’d never leave.  Ever.”

Steve laughed and relaxed his posture a little as he slipped his shoes off and shrugged out of his coat.  Bucky followed suit, handing his coat over for Steve to hang it in a closet by the door.

“Good thing I decided not to do that or else I’d never have met you,” Steve said as he wandered slowly into the kitchen.

Bucky followed behind him, running his fingertips lightly over the cool, smooth granite before leaning back casually against the kitchen island.  “Mmmm…” Bucky hummed in agreement.  “Well now, that is a good thing.  Speaking of good things…” he drawled, “I specifically recall somebody saying something about a ‘nightcap’?”

“What’s your pleasure?” Steve replied, his voice dropping seductively.

“Surprise me,” Bucky challenged.

Steve looked under the kitchen island studying the contents for a moment before standing back up, his hands braced in a wide stance on the countertop.

“How about a Blow Job?” he asked with a mischievous smirk.

“Excuse me?” Bucky said with a voice that sounded far too strained to be casual.

Steve tried to keep his features schooled but lost it as soon as he heard Bucky’s voice.  He leaned back down still laughing loudly as he pulled out a variety of bottles along with two square, thick bottomed, oversized glass shot glasses.

“It’s a shot,” he explained as he gestured at the bottles.  Never had a Blow Job before?” he asked milking the innuendo for all it was worth.

“Not in a glass,” Bucky replied with a smile.

He watched intently as Steve carefully poured equal amounts of Baileys, Kahlua, and Amaretto into each tiny tumbler.  Then he grabbed a can of whipped cream from the fridge and topped each one with a generous swirl of fluffy, ridged, airy goodness.

He came around the counter to stand next to Bucky and handed him one.  They men raised their glasses and clinked them lightly together before knocking back the sticky sweet shots.  Bucky put his glass on the counter and proceeded to slowly lick the line of whipped cream that’d stuck to his lips, purposefully putting on a show for Steve.  The blond stared unabashedly at Bucky’s mouth, his pupils expanding widely at the sight of the brunet’s sinful pink tongue languidly licking the wayward cream from his own lips.

“You like that?” Steve asked, his voice coming out rough and gravely.

“Best blow job I’ve had in some time,” Bucky answered with a sigh.

Steve stepped closer and placed his hands on Bucky’s hips, his fingertips digging in just so.

“I can fix that,” he rumbled as he leaned in to capture Bucky’s still sugar-sweet lips in an eager kiss.  Bucky moaned and opened his mouth a little, inviting Steve to deepen the kiss.  Steve responded immediately, tracing Bucky’s lips with the tip of his tongue before delving inside his warm, waiting mouth.  He pulled Bucky closer, rubbing one hand up and down his spine and tangling the other into Bucky’s shaggy strands as their tongues beat softly together.  Steve wound his fingers into Bucky’s hair, grabbing a handful near the nape of his neck to tip the brunet’s head back.  He kissed and nibbled slowly along Bucky’s strong jaw before moving down the long column of his throat, scraping his teeth lightly over the brunet’s prominent Adam’s apple.  Bucky was already panting heavily and painfully hard as Steve moved down to suck gently on his clavicle.

“Uhn... Steve.  More,” he grunted between shallow breaths.

Steve made his way back up to Bucky’s lips, kissing him deeply but not hurriedly.  When he finally pulled back so they could both catch their breath, he rested his forehead against Bucky’s and placed his big, warm hands back on the brunet’s hips.

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” Steve said pulling back to look into Bucky’s eyes.  “But I don’t want to rush it.  We’ve got all night, right?”

The hopeful, sincere look on Steve’s face nearly made Bucky melt.  He nodded and gave Steve a small, pleased smile in return.  “I’m here as long as you want me to be,” he said before he leaned in for another languid kiss.  He could feel Steve smiling against his lips.

“Better watch what you say, Sergeant,” he said as he playfully nipped at Bucky’s lower lip with his teeth.  “I might just keep you here forever.”

“In that case” Bucky said tipping his chin up and fixing his gaze on the massive, black leather sectional sofa that sat down in the living room., “maybe we should go get a little more comfortable.”

“Good idea,” Steve said as he turned to lead them there.  Bucky quietly grabbed the can of whipped cream from the counter and followed behind nearly giddy with anticipation.

Steve grabbed a remote from the large, glass coffee table and pressed a couple of buttons filling the room with soft music.  Although Bucky didn’t recognize the particular tune, it was smooth and soothing, 40’s big band era stuff.  It was nice.  Steve put the remote back and sat back in the middle of the couch, spreading his knees wide as he got comfortable.  Bucky stood before him, his arm tucked behind his back and wicked smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Whatcha got there?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“Well,” Bucky replied taking a step closer to stand between Steve’s legs.  “Since we didn’t have dessert earlier, I thought we might indulge a little now.”

Steve jerked his head back in surprise and barked out a little laugh when Bucky revealed the can of cold whipped cream in his hand, shaking it invitingly.  Steve reached out and grabbed Bucky by the waist, pulling him gently towards him to straddle his lap.

“What’d you have in mind?” Steve asked as he ran his hands up and down Bucky’s strong thighs.

“I don’t think I can answer that question while you still have your shirt on Steve,” Bucky teased.

Steve chuckled as he slowly unbuttoned the fitted, light blue dress shirt.  He leaned forward to pull his arms out of the sleeves before tossing it to the floor.

“That too,” Bucky ordered looking at the thin, tight, white, ribbed tank.

Steve hooked his fingers under the edge of the soft cotton fabric and pulled it up and over his head, mussing his hair in the best way possible in the process.  He dropped the undershirt to the floor and sat back against the oversized leather cushions, his six-pack abs and hard, rounded pecs on full display.

“Christ, I could seriously do nothing but stare at you all day,” Bucky said reverently as he took in the gorgeous man beneath him.  He set the whipped cream down next to Steve so he could map out his toned torso with his fingers now that he was finally at liberty to do so.  He squeezed and massaged Steve’s ample pecs, tweaking each hardened nipple between his forefinger and thumb.  Steve tilted his head back and watched through heavy, hooded eyes moaning softly in response to Bucky’s ministrations.

Bucky placed his open palm over Steve’s long-since-healed scar and rested it there.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“Remember I told you I was sickly as a child?  Well, I had a lot of ailments that I fortunately outgrew over the years but I couldn’t heal the hole in my heart I’d been born with.  Had surgery when I was seven.”

“So, you’ve always been a fighter,” Bucky replied with a smirk.  “I’m surprised you didn’t get DQ’d when you enlisted.”

“I healed completely and was told I’d never have problems with it again.  And since I passed every physical test they gave me with flying colors, they agreed to give me a shot.”

Bucky moved his hand and leaned in to press his lips gently to the mottled skin.  Steve swallowed loudly, his eyes brimming with emotion.  “Thank you,” he said barely above a whisper.

Bucky smiled widely as he picked the can of whipped cream up again to resume his fiendish plan.

“I think it’s my turn to give you a shot,” he said pointing the tip of the dispenser down and pressing to create a perfect little mound on each of Steve’s nipples, a long, zig-zag over the defined ridges of his abs and an arrow pointing directly to the waistband of Steve’s dark grey wool pants.  Bucky slid back further on Steve’s legs he could lean down to lick up the creamy trail he created.  He braced himself by holding onto Steve’s shoulder as he laved Steve’s nipple with the flat of his tongue.  He swallowed the cool, sweet cream down loudly before sucking on the hardened bud beneath it as he stared into the blond’s rapidly dilating blue eyes.  As Bucky moved to follow the z-shaped path he’d made, his hair fell forward nearly falling into the gooey mess.  Steve reached down to gather Bucky’s hair in his hand, resting it on the back of his head.

“Thanks, baby,” Bucky cooed as he eagerly returned to his intended task.

Steve’s breathing grew heavier with each slow, deliberate pass of Bucky’s tongue over his smooth, hot skin.  By the time the brunet was done licking his way down the treasure trail arrow he’d made, there was no hiding the massive erection that was tenting the front of Steve’s pants.  Bucky slid down to the floor to kneel between the blond’s legs.  He tugged harshly at Steve’s thick, black leather belt, managing to free the prong from the buckle.  He looked up Steve sheepishly as he dipped his fingertips inside Steve’s waistband.

“Could you um, maybe give me a hand here?  I mean literally.  It’s kinda hard to undress myself let alone somebody else…” Bucky trailed off, a pink blush staining his cheeks.

Steve sat up suddenly and crashed their lips together with so much urgency it took Bucky by surprise.  When he finally pulled back, leaving them both a little breathless, he stood up and brought Bucky up with him.

“How ‘bout if I undress us both then?” he asked, already unbuttoning his own pants.

Bucky nodded and smiled appreciatively.

Steve stepped out of his pants, yanked his socks off and stood before Bucky in only a pair of navy blue boxer briefs with a very prominent bulge filling the front.  Then he went to work on divesting Bucky of his clothes.

“Did I tell you how incredibly hot you looked tonight?” Steve asked as he pulled the black cashmere sweater and plain white t-shirt he’d had on underneath up and over Bucky’s head.  The static cling created in the process made several strands to stand hysterically on end and it took every last reserve of Steve’s self-control to bite back the laugh that threatened to burst from his mouth.

“You did,” Bucky answered completely unaware that he looked a bit like a shocked Pomeranian.  “At least twice.”

Steve casually smoothed down Bucky’s locks and stared at his bare torso while he unbuttoned the brunet’s black skinny dress pants.  He pushed Bucky down onto the sofa so he could wrangle his long legs out of his skin tight pants.  Bucky lifted his hips to help the blond pull his pants down over his ass, enjoying the surprised reaction on Steve’s face when he realized that Bucky had gone commando on their date.  His hard, thick cock sprang free and smacked against his abdomen.

Steve licked his lips and stared hungrily as he nearly tore Bucky’s pants the rest of the way off.  He raked his eyes up and down Bucky’s now naked body.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he said sincerely as he moved into the space between Bucky’s widespread legs.  He leaned down to kiss him chastely but with Bucky’s erection now pressing hotly against Steve’s stomach, it wasn’t long before they were moaning into each other’s mouths, desperate for more.  Steve kissed and licked his way over Bucky’s chest and down his sculpted abs, scraping his teeth over his prominent hip bones and earning a stuttered moan.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about having you between my thighs like this,” Bucky said nearly shaking with anticipation.

The ravenous look on Steve’s face before he wrapped his lips around the head of Bucky’s cock was almost enough to set Bucky off.  Seeing those lips wrapped around his dick and feeling the wet, hot, slide of Steve’s tongue around his shaft had Bucky damn-near seeing stars.

“Oh fuck! Steve, mmm, fuck, baby.  That feels so good,” Bucky rambled as he watched Steve lick the underside of his cock from root to tip and back again.  Steve stroked him slowly while he kissed, licked and sucked on Bucky’s balls before tilting the glistening, reddened head back to his mouth.  He probed the leaking slit with the tip of his tongue before sucking him back in, savoring the bitter taste of his pre-cum.  Bucky panted and grabbed onto Steve’s head, guiding him up and down and scratching his nails over Steve’s scalp when the blond deep-throated him, moaning with pleasure around the throbbing cock in his mouth.

Bucky’s toes curled as he felt the familiar pressure of his orgasm building a little too quickly.  It’d been so long since he’d had anyone’s mouth on him but having Steve’s soft, pink lips stretched wide around his girth had him hurtling towards his release faster than he ever expected or wanted.

“Uhn... Steve.  You hafta slow down baby or I’m gonna blow and I am _so_ not ready to be done yet.”

Steve pulled back, sucking gently on the head before releasing it with a pop.

“God, Buck, you taste so good,” Steve said.  “I could do this all day.”

Bucky cursed in response as he cock twitched in Steve’s hand.  Steve placed feather-light kisses and gentle tongue flicks all along the shaft and over his balls before pressing his tongue and lips against Bucky’s taint.

“I want to taste all of you,” Steve said placing his hands on the underside of the brunet’s thighs, pressing his legs up towards his head and nearly bending him in half.

Bucky groaned, “Fuck, yes,” and shifted back to give Steve better access.

Steve wasted no time getting his tongue on Bucky’s hole, slowly circling the rim a few times before plunging the tip inside the tight ring of muscle.  Bucky shouted Steve’s name as his back arched off of the cushions.  Steve used one hand to keep Bucky’s hips steady while he shoved the other one into his own underwear to give himself some much needed relief and attention.  He stroked himself slowly while he ate Bucky’s ass, working his tongue all over and into the tight, twitching muscle.

Bucky looked down between his legs and watched in awe as Steve lavished his hole, completely consumed by his mission to make Bucky feel good.  And _fuck_ did it ever feel good.  Still, Bucky wanted more.  Needed more.  He reached down and gently rubbed his fingers through Steve’s hair to get his attention.  Steve drew back to look at Bucky, his chin obscenely covered with a layer of his own spit, his blue eyes blown dark with lust.

“I want to taste you too,” Bucky said in a husky voice.

Steve moaned and stood up, peeling his underwear off and kicking them to the side.  Bucky’s eyes grew wide as he got his first real look at Steve’s impressive cock jutting proudly from his pelvis.  It was long and thick and perfectly veined.  The crown was full and dark with drops of pre-cum pearling at the slit.  It was seriously the prettiest fucking cock he’d ever seen.

“Thanks,” Steve said with a shy smile.  “Don’t think anyone’s ever called it that before.”

He’d actually said that out loud.  Okay.

“Well, it is.  Now, bring that big, beautiful dick over here so I can have my just desserts,” Bucky replied, waggling his eyebrows as he picked the can of whipped cream up once again.

Steve stepped forward and couldn’t help but laugh at the determined look on the brunet’s face as he thoughtfully decorated Steve’s straining erection with an elaborate whipped cream design.

“You’re quite talented,” Steve chuckled.

Bucky dropped the now empty can to the floor.  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he smirked before lunging forward to suck the whipped cream off the head of Steve’s cock.  Steve moaned loudly, clenching his hands into fists as he watched Bucky take his time, slowly licking and sucking every sweet morsel off of Steve’s rock hard shaft.

“God, you’re such a tease,” Steve chided him.  “It’s cruel rea—“

His last statement got caught in his throat as Bucky suddenly swallowed him down as far as he could go, hollowing his cheeks as he bobbed his head back and forth.

Steve whimpered as Bucky swirled his tongue around Steve’s engorged head while pumping the shaft with his fist.  Bucky let go long enough to grab one of Steve’s fisted hands to place on the back of his head, encouraging the blond to take control.

“Come on baby,” Bucky said releasing Steve’s cock for a moment.  “Fuck my face.”

Steve whined at the brunet’s words, so turned on he could barely think.  He placed his hands on either side of Bucky’s face and started to thrust.  When Bucky moaned loudly around him, Steve drove in harder making Bucky gag as he nudged the back of his throat.

“Oh fuck,” Steve said under his breath as he continued to thrust deeper and faster.  The grip he had on Bucky’s hair was becoming painfully tight as he felt his orgasm begin to build.  “God, I’m getting close,” he said through gasping breaths grunting loudly with every push, “Uh uh uh uh…”  All of suddern, Steve pulled out, stumbling back a step as he tried to regain some semblance of control.  He gripped his cock and held it still in his fist to try and stop the mounting pressure pooling in his groin.  Bucky looked up at him a little dazed, chest heaving, eyes watering and lips red, swollen and glistening with spit.  He scooted back on the sofa and spread his legs wide.

“Want you,” he huffed.  “Want you to fuck me, Steve.  Please, baby.  I need you so bad.”

Bucky shoved his own index and middle fingers into his mouth and sucked on them lightly as he coated them in saliva.  A second later, he was circling his asshole before sliding his middle finger inside to the second knuckle.

Steve just stood and watched him for a moment, completely captivated.  He relaxed the iron grip he’d had on himself and started to stroke slowly, twisting his wrist at the head before sliding back down.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve panted.  “That is so goddamn hot.”

Bucky moaned and spread his legs wider, putting on a show for his lover as he pumped his finger slowly in and out, matching the pace of Steve’s strokes.

“Steve,” Bucky said as he slid the second finger in alongside the first with a hiss.  “Lube.  Condoms.  Now.”

Steve cursed under his breath as he turned away and literally sprinted for his bedroom, tripping over their discarded clothes and nearly falling face down in the process.

Bucky chuckled between low moans as he continued to prep himself, scissoring his fingers.  He closed his eyes and focused on the pleasure, thinking about how good it was going to feel to have Steve’s cock there instead.  He was so lost in his fantasy that he didn’t even hear Steve return less than a minute later.  He opened his eyes when he heard the sound of the lube bottle cap clicking open.  Steve knelt down on the cushions between Bucky’s legs and leaned in to kiss him passionately, sucking on his tongue and lower lip before sitting back up.

He held the bottle up and tipped the spout towards his own fingers.  “May I?” he asked.

“I’ll never say no to that,” Bucky answered with a satisfied grin as he pulled his fingers out slowly and relaxed into the comfortable cushions.

Steve coated the fingers of his right hand with a generous squirt of the viscous gel.  He reached down between Bucky’s legs and began ran his fingertips over his sensitive opening.

“I got you.  Just relax,” Steve murmured as pressed one finger all the way in.

Bucky hummed appreciatively as Steve flicked his tongue over Bucky’s pert nipple, biting gently on the hardened nub before massaging over it with slow, broad licks.  He did the same thing the other side, pleasantly distracting him as he slid in a second finger.

Bucky grabbed the back of Steve’s head and pulled him close to crush their lips together.  They made out slowly as Steve pumped his fingers in and out, crooking them in search of Bucky’s prostate.  He knew he’d found it when the brunet keened suddenly moaning into Steve’s mouth with pleasure.

Steve added a third finger, grazing that sweet spot over and over until Bucky was rocking down hard on Steve’s hand and practically begging for his cock.

“I’m ready for you baby.  Please…” he said arching his back again as Steve took Bucky’s cock in his mouth again, sucking gently as he slowly pulled his fingers out of Bucky’s now gaping hole.  Bucky grabbed the condom and tore the foil open with his teeth.  He handed the opened packet to Steve and watched as the blond rolled it down over his incredibly hard cock.  Steve squeezed some more lube on the head of his dick and spread it all over his sensitive member before lining up to Bucky’s entrance.  He kissed Bucky one last time before hiking his ankles up onto his wide shoulders.  Bucky winced as Steve pushed past the tight ring of muscle with the swollen head of his cock.  As Steve pressed further, Bucky moaned at the painful stretch that soon sent sparks of pleasure down his spine.

“Feels amazing,” he said breathily.  “Don’t stop.”

“You’re amazing,” Steve answered as he continued to push slowly inside.  “So fucking tight.  I’m not sure how long I’m gonna last,” he huffed.  “Feels sooooo goddamn good.”

Bucky could only grunt in response as he felt Steve finally bottom out—his hot, heavy ball sack pressed flush to Bucky’s ass.

They both just stayed there unmoving for a moment, letting their bodies adjust to the overwhelming sensations.

“You okay?” Steve asked, his golden hair dark and wet with sweat that trickled down his spine.

“Mmmm… so full,” Bucky answered looking completely blissed out.

Steve started to rock his hips gently, moaning loudly at the hot, tight heat enveloping his cock.

“Oh yeah, fuck me baby,” Bucky panted.  “Harder.”

Steve moved Bucky’s legs to drape them around his hips so he could lean down and kiss him while he pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting back in.  He sucked on Bucky’s neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of oval bruises in his wake.

“You like having my big dick in your tight little ass?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“You’re not gonna walk right for a week,” Steve grunted as he picked up the pace, ramming into Bucky’s prostate with every thrust.

Bucky howled with pleasure, chanting a mantra of Steve’s name between gasping breaths.

“Fuck, Steve… ‘m getting close.”

“You gonna cum for me?  Come on baby, I want to see you explode,” Steve encouraged as he felt his own orgasm building again.

He reached down and wrapped his hand around Bucky’s shaft, stroking it hard and fast in time with his punishing thrusts.

“Paint those pretty little tits with your cum so I can lick it all off,” Steve huffed as his rhythm started to falter.

“Fuck!  I’m gonna cum!  Steve!” Bucky shouted as he arched up and went still.  Steve continued to pump his cock as spurt after spurt of thick, hot release splattered Bucky’s stomach and chest.  The tight clench of Bucky’s muscles and the sight of the gorgeous, sated man beneath him was all it took to hurtle Steve over the edge.  He buried himself as deep as he could and shouted out in ecstasy as he filled the condom with his hot seed.

Steve rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder as the two men collected their breath and came down from their post-coital high.  Steve hesitantly pulled out, unsheathed the condom and tossed it on his undershirt to dispose of later.  He sat back on the couch as Bucky stretched out, laying his calves across Steve’s lap.

“Jesus Christ, Rogers,” Bucky said with a gravelly voice, his breath still labored.  “I would _not_ have pegged you as the type to talk dirty.”

Steve actually blushed at Bucky’s comment.

“I’m usually not,” he said shyly.  “Must just be you.  Between the whipped cream and your dirty mouth I guess I lost my mind a bit.”

“I fucking loved it,” Bucky smiled.  So did Steve.

“Speaking of cream,” he continued looking down at the still hot mess on his torso.  “I heard you mention something about licking mine clean?”

Steve was already moving before Bucky could even finish his sentence, eager to fulfill his lust-fueled promise.

“You’re right.  I did,” Steve said licking a still-warm glob of semen from Bucky’s side and swallowing it with a satisfied hum.  “Just like the rest of you… delicious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what'd ya think? This was only my second ever attempt at writing M/M smut so I hope it was good. Leave me a comment and let me know. Thanks!


	8. Just Can't Get Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive delay in posting. Things have been crazy busy of late. Anyway, hope you enjoy the update!
> 
> BTW - I posted this from the passenger seat of a car via mobile hot spot so there are sure to be some errors. Please feel free to point them out and I'll correct them once I get home. Thanks!

Bucky never thought he had a way with words but as he stood inside of the massive, luxurious, incredible shower room— _yes, it was an actual fucking room that was probably bigger than his bedroom and bathroom combined—_ he decided he could fill a book in dedication to this heavenly place.  As the jets of water burst out in massaging streams from the ceiling, side walls, and even the floor, he let his head fall back, closed his eyes and pondered again how Steve ever mustered the motivation to leave his own private Shangri-La.  He was stirred from his reverie by the feeling of two large, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

“My tongue bath didn’t leave you feeling fresh and clean?” Steve teased as he placed a trail of soft kisses from behind the shell of Bucky’s ear, down his neck and all over his shoulders.  Bucky shivered in spite of the all-encompassing assault of hot water and the endless billowing clouds of steam.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long,” Bucky sighed contentedly. “But, can I move in with you?  I want to stay right here.  In your shower.  I won’t be a bother, I promise.  You won’t even know that I’m here.”

Steve chuckled and pulled Bucky further into his embrace until the brunet’s back was flush with his front.  “Mmmmm…” Steve purred, “I know I can be a little dense at times but ‘m pretty sure I’d notice a drop-dead-gorgeous guy residing in my bathroom.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head before turning around in the circle of Steve’s arms.  “You know, I already put out once tonight.  You don’t have to keep greasing the wheels, Rogers,” he joked.

Steve cupped Bucky’s face gently in his hands and stared into his eyes so intently it nearly made Bucky shy away.  “I mean it,” he said quietly before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to the other man’s lips.  “You’re so beautiful.  And I don’t just mean on the outside.”

Bucky surged forward to kiss Steve again, whimpering into his mouth as the hot water continued to rain down on them from every angle.  When they broke apart, Bucky closed his eyes and rested his head on Steve’s muscled chest.  This had to be a dream.  Steve was just too damn good to be true.  Handsome, smart, sweet, funny, nice, adorable, hung like a fucking horse… Nope.  Not real.

Bucky was jostled out of his thoughts by Steve’s shaking chest.  He was laughing as held the brunet close.  “Like a horse?  Wow.  Thanks, Buck.  I think maybe we should end this date right now.  Don’t think it can really get much better than that!  For me, at least.”

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered as he pushed away from Steve with an embarrassed smile on his face.  “I have _got_ to stop doing that!”

“I don’t know… I think it’s really cute.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a giant sap?” Bucky teased.

“Yup,” Steve grinned, filling his palm with shampoo from the built-in, automatic dispenser nestled inside one of the shower walls.  The ceiling sprayed ceased automatically as he got to work massaging Bucky’s scalp with the apple scented shampoo, quickly creating a foamy lather throughout the brunet’s longer locks.  Steve bit his lip absent-mindedly as he artfully sculpted the soapy strands into a spiky, bubble-molded mohawk atop Bucky’s head.  He stood back and smiled, proudly admiring his work.  He turned Bucky towards one of the glass walls so he could see his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling pane.  Bucky couldn’t help but giggle at Steve’s handiwork.

“Sap, nerd, goofball, hopeless romantic…” Steve continued as he made a few minor adjustments to perfect the look before raking his foam covered fingers through his own short hair.  “I’d probably be offended if weren’t all true.  Close your eyes.”

Steve waved a hand in front of some built-in motion sensor to trigger the ceiling mounted rainfall shower heads to resume their flow.  Bucky hummed happily as his sudsy spikes quickly collapsed under the steady, temperate stream.  That hum evolved into a quiet moan of blissful satisfaction when he felt Steve’s hands return to his massaging his scalp, working with the downpour of water to rinse away any remnants of shampoo.

“I could seriously get used to you _and_ your sappy ways, Rogers,” Bucky drawled, eyes still happily closed as he relished every bit of attention that Steve was willing to lavish upon him.

“Yeah?” Steve replied, fingers combing through long, tangled locks.  “Well, those aren’t the only names I’ve been called,” he added suggestively as he took a step closer, crowding his chiseled body against his unsuspecting lover.  Bucky’s breath hitched when he felt Steve’s soft, plump lips press against his.  Their kisses started chastely, their mouths sliding together slowly.  It wasn’t long though before soft lip presses and gentle tongue swipes turned into a much more urgent exploration.

“Oh god,” Bucky murmured as Steve broke the kiss to start sucking and nibbling his way down the long column of Bucky’s neck.

“I wasn’t really thinking of that one, but I’ll take it,” Steve chuckled as he pressed a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder.

He wound his arms around the brunet’s waist and pulled him in even closer drawing an instinctive moan out each of them at the feeling of their hardening cocks pressing together.  They began moving their hips in tandem to slide their insistent lengths against one another, the constant spray of hot water and the light trickle of suds cascading down their bodies helping to ease the glide.

“How ‘bout smartass punk?” Bucky teased before sucking Steve’s bottom lip hungrily into his mouth, nibbling on the swollen flesh before letting go.

“Mmmmm… smartass?  All the time.  Punk?  That might be a Bucky exclusive.”  He paused for a moment as a thoughtful smile formed on his face.

“I like it,” Steve added confidently as he reached down between them to grasp both of their erections together in one large, calloused hand.  Bucky grabbed onto to one of Steve’s shoulders for balance and leaned in to kiss him

“Not as much as I like you,” Bucky huffed as Steve began to stroke them slowly together.  “Christ that feels good.”

Steve pressed another sweet kiss to Bucky’s lips before pulling back to look him in the eyes as he momentarily stilled his hand.  “I like you too.  A lot.”

Bucky flashed him a humble smile that matched Steve’s coy expression before twitching his lips into a cocky smirk.

“If you _really_ liked me you’d be stroking us faster already,” he challenged.

“So impatient,” Steve teased as he squeezed them both lightly before gliding his hand over their hot, hard shafts with practiced movements that soon had them both panting heavily between passionate kisses.

“Yeah, well… if you spent as much time with as I have over the last couple a years with only your right hand for company, you’d be pretty eager too,” Bucky whined.

“What makes you think I haven’t?” Steve huffed as he twisted his wrist and increased the pressure and speed of his strokes.

“Maybe you have,” Bucky moaned and attacked Steve’s mouth once again.  “’Cause you’re really fucking good at this.”  Bucky rocked his hips to thrust harder into Steve’s large fist.  “Shit, I’m gettin’ close already.”

“M-me too,” Steve stuttered as he felt Bucky’s hand slide down from his shoulder to close over top of his, squeezing gently to increase the pressure.  Bucky could feel the familiar tension building in his balls as they shared sloppy, wet, open mouth kisses under the streaming hot spray.

“Oh yeah Steve… just like that baby,” he encouraged.  “God, the things you do to me.  I can’t even...” Bucky mumbled.

“I know,” Steve rasped.  “You too.  It’s like I… I just can’t get enough,” he confessed, hungrily devouring Bucky’s mouth once again as if to prove the point.

The slick, wet squelching noises they made as they rutted into their now joined hands was obscenely hot, sending jolts of pleasure straight down Bucky’s spine and directly to his dick.  The familiar sparks in his gut drawing quickly like a taut bow string.

“I’m gonna cum,” he whispered against Steve’s swollen, red lips.  “You ready baby?”

Steve nodded as he pinched his brows together, his dazed, hooded eyes fixed on their mingled cocks sliding hotly against one another.  He licked his lips and adjusted his grip, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“Cum with me Steve,” Bucky gasped as he jerked his hips forward.  The sharp exhale of his breath announcing his climax as he coated their hands and Steve’s abdomen with his release.  Just then Steve stiffened, closed his eyes and threw his head back.  He moaned loudly as he shot spurt after spurt of his hot, thick, white jizz over their hnads.

As the still steaming water _(apparently there was an endless supply in the nirvana known as Steve’s condo)_ continued to pelt them from all sides, it wasn’t long before any trace of their mutual gratification was completely erased, quickly rinsed down the drain.  They stood there for a moment resting their heads on each other’s shoulders as they caught their breath, both of them placing tender kisses where their mouths met dewy skin.  Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s hips, tracing small circles with the pads of his thumbs over slightly protruding bones as he hummed out an exhale that only a person basking in the afterglow of a euphoric orgasm can genuinely make.

“You think maybe we should get out now before we shrivel up like a couple of old prunes?” Steve asked teasingly as he turned away to shut the water off with the high tech control panel that looked like it’d require a PhD to successfully operate.

Bucky sighed heavily as though the thought alone gave him pain.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

He shook his head like a shaggy dog, whipping the excess water from his wet, wavy hair.  As soon as he’d finished he felt a warm, thick, fluffy towel being carefully wrapped around his body from behind.  And yeah, he could absolutely get used to this.

He stepped out onto the radiant heated tile floors _(because of course the fucking floors were heated)_ and scrubbed the towel quickly over himself to absorb most of the moisture still clinging to his warm skin.  Steve gave him an appreciative glance before turning to head for the bedroom, his own towel slung dangerously low around his narrow waist.  Bucky couldn’t help but enjoy the view—it was nothing short of spectacular and one he was positive he’d never tire of seeing.  As he hung his towel on a nearby hook, it suddenly dawned on him that all of his clothes were still strewn haphazardly around Steve’s sofa.  With that realization came a swift rush of uncertain anxiety in the pit of his stomach.  _Was their date officially over?  Could he still call it a date or had they reduced their awesome evening to a casual hook-up in their unrestrained rush to get naked and fuck each other senseless?_ Bucky just stood for a moment staring at his fuzzy reflection in the steamed up bathroom mirror, completely unsure of what to do next and trying to quiet the rising panic in his brain.  Although things were moving really fast, for some reason it didn’t feel rushed.  It felt right.  At least it did for Bucky.  He knew that Steve liked him.  He’d just told him as much just moments ago.  Still… he hadn’t really invited him to stay.

Bucky sighed loudly and decided to bid Steve a goodnight before he got dressed and headed out into the cold, evening air and back to his completely ordinary, shoebox apartment.  He walked to the doorway leading to Steve’s impressive bedroom and leaned casually against the frame.  Steve was already in the massive California king-sized bed, nestled happily under the soft, enticing comforter.  His oversized bath towel dropped in a damp pile on the floor next to the bed. He propped his head up on his hand when he saw Bucky appear and gave him a sleepy smile.

“You coming?” he asked, lifting the edge of the comforter up in obvious invitation.  Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.  God he had it bad.

“You sure you’ve got enough room for me?” he teased going for non-chalance as he stepped into the room and tried his hardest not to sprint across the floor to dive excitedly under the covers.

“Well, we might have sleep close together to make sure neither of us falls off,” he replied with a smirk.

Bucky climbed up into the bed and almost whimpered at the heavenly feeling of the cloud-like mattress below him.

“I think that can be arranged,” he said as he slid closer to Steve so that they were face-to-face.  He was quickly drawn into the trainer’s big, strong arms, their legs automatically tangling together.  They rested their heads on the decadent pillows and stared into each other’s eyes, each of them looking pleased as punch just to be there.  Steve leaned close to place a long, chaste kiss to the brunet’s soft, pliant lips.  Then he placed a quick kiss to the tip of Bucky’s nose before tipping his head far enough away to be able to look into the now exhausted looking brunet’s eyes.

“So, about our next date,” he said barely above a whisper.  “How ‘bout I take you to my favorite diner in the morning for breakfast?  They seriously have the best blueberry pancakes I’ve ever tasted.”

Bucky thought for a moment about arguing that even though it’d be the next day, since they’d never parted, technically it was still their first date.  But then he looked into Steve’s beautiful blue eyes, twinkling in the soft light with so much sweet intention that Bucky couldn’t do anything but smile.

“Do they serve ‘em with whipped cream?” he asked before biting down playfully on his own bottom lip.

Steve burst out laughing.  “I think they just might,” he answered still chuckling.

“Well then,” Bucky replied as he burrowed his head down to nestle his nose against the side of Steve’s neck, breathing in his ever-intoxicating fresh, clean scent.  “It’s a date.”

***

Bucky was startled out of the most peaceful sleep he’d had in recent memory by the loud, insistent vibrating of his phone.  He lazily cracked one eye open and was stunned further still at the realization that he wasn’t in his own bedroom.  It only took a moment before his sleepy brain filled in the blanks—flooding Bucky’s mind with the pleasant memory of drifting off to sleep nestled up naked next to Steve.  Gorgeous, sexy, smart, funny Steve, who was sadly no longer in bed with him.

Bucky stretched lazily on the insanely comfortable mattress before reaching over to grab his phone off of the nightstand.  He could only assume Steve had left it there for him, along with the full glass of water, two Advil and the neatly folded pile of his formerly disregarded clothes.  Bucky was grateful beyond words as he shoved the ibuprofen in his mouth and chased them by gulping down the full glass of water in four long swallows.  When he finally had a chance to unlock his phone, he saw notifications for a handful of missed calls and unread texts.  He immediately opened the one from Steve that he’d apparently left at _5:15_?  So, Steve was one of _‘those people’_.  The kind that woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and way more pleasant than Bucky ever could be without at least one large cup of coffee in him first.

**_Hey hottie!  Hated to leave you but I get up w/o an alarm at 5 AM every day & decided rather than be creepy & stare at you ‘til you woke up (tempting as that was – you’re totes adorbs when you sleep you know that?) I got up to go for a run.  Left you some Advil & water in case you need it & there’s a new toothbrush on the sink in the bathroom.  Be back soon to take you to breakfast!  Call if you need anything at all before then <3 _ ** **_J_ ** **_(5:15)_ **

Bucky smiled at his phone.  “Sap,” he muttered to the otherwise empty room.  Then he thumbed through the rest of his inbox.  All six remaining unread texts, three missed calls, and one aborted voicemail message were from Natasha.

**_Hey you!  How was your date? We’re dying to know.  Call me! (11:30 p.m.)_ **

**_Must be going pretty well if you’re not checking your phone and its half past midnight_ ** **_J_ **

**_Okay, I just got up to pee and still no answer?  Nothing?  You’d better be okay.  Text me.  (2:48 a.m.)_ **

**_WTF James?  Did Steve kill you with kindness?  Or his cock?  Either way you’d better call me back.  Soon.  Or else.  (5:57 a.m.)_ **

**_You are so fucking lucky that Sam gets up at the ass-crack of dawn to go running with Steve most mornings.  He just texted me & said you’re safe and sound asleep… IN STEVE’S BED!!!  Woot!  Woot!  (6:33 a.m.)_ **

**_For the record, even though I’m super psyched for you, I’m still pissed.  You can try to make it up to me with drinks, dinner, and every last dirty detail tomorrow night, my place.  Spicy tuna rolls and seaweed salad.  C U then.  (6:35 a.m.)_ **

Bucky chuckled softly as he laid his phone back on the dresser before stretching out again languidly like a spoiled cat right in the middle of the cushy mattress.  He settled on his back and let his eyelids drift shut, the draw of added sleep so very tempting.  But based on Nat’s message, he guessed Steve would likely be back soon and with him the promise of coffee and blueberry pancakes.  His stomach rumbled loudly in anticipation.  With a disgruntled sigh, he hauled himself out of bed to get ready for the day.

As he stood at the sink in nothing but his black boxer briefs brushing his teeth, he looked up in the mirror to see Steve stride into the room, hair dampened and skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat.  He smiled broadly as he walked up behind Bucky and placed his hands on the brunet’s hips.  He placed a gentle kiss on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” he said resting his chin where his lips had just been.  “How’d you sleep?”

Bucky spit a mouthful of foamy toothpaste into the sink before answering, “Like a fuckin’ log, thanks.  That bed?  Unbelievable.  Like the rest of your place,” Bucky said shaking his head with an incredulous smile and motioning around the room with his toothbrush in hand.

“I’m glad,” Steve placing another quick peck on Bucky’s shoulder before stepping back to pull his sweat-soaked shirt up and over his head as he made his way to the shower.  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept so soundly myself.”

He quickly shed the rest of his clothes and tried to hide the pleased smile that was pulling up his lips as he took note of Bucky, standing there frozen in front of the sink, eyes fixed hungrily on Steve.  He held the toothbrush still in one side of his mouth, puffing his cheek out adorably.  Apparently unaware of the way he was unabashedly gawking.

“Wanna join me?” Steve said nodding towards the shower, his shy smile turning lascivious as he stepped into the steaming sprays.

Bucky rolled his eyes and spit into the sink again, setting the toothbrush down on the counter before cupping his hand under the faucet and rinsing his mouth out.  He grabbed a towel off of the rack and wiped his face clean as he chuckled to himself.  Part of him wanted nothing more than to step into that shower with Steve and kill an hour or three mapping out every inch of that glorious body.  The other part of him could hardly wait to get to the diner.  He was famished.

“Tempting as that is, my stomach is growling, I’ve got blueberry pancakes on the brain and if I don’t get a cup of coffee soon I might turn into a giant green rage monster or something,” he answered.

Steve laughed as he lathered soap over his chest and arms.  “Okay, okay… I’ll just be a minute.  Until then, you can grab a cup of coffee in the kitchen.  I brewed a pot this morning.”

Bucky practically whimpered, “Thank you!” before making a bee-line to the kitchen.  He was stunned to see the simple, black, old-school coffee maker situated there amongst the other gleaming, state-of-the-art, stainless steel appliances.  Unsurprisingly, Steve had left a small tray with a clean mug and all the fixings he could possibly want there by the machine.  As Bucky meandered back to the bedroom to get dressed, sipping gratefully along the way, he couldn’t help but wonder how on earth Steve could possibly be single.  Did he have a dark side hidden behind that beautiful, sunny façade?  Maybe he wasn’t interested in being in a ‘committed’ relationship with anyone?  Bucky took a deep breath and sighed loudly as he pulled his clothes back on.  Or maybe he was just waiting for the right partner?  Maybe that person could be Bucky.

***

The “Up All Night” diner was a little less than a block away from Steve’s building and was the epitome of a greasy spoon.  The sparkle-red and once-snow-white vinyl upholstery covering the backs and bottoms of the booth they were seated at was riddled with scratch marks and painted with a variety of permanent stain splotches.  The sturdy table top was well worn but clean.  Years of use had tarnished the formica like an old photograph fading at the edges.  Just like Angela’s the evening before, it was comfortable and quaint, and the service was very personal.  Steve had been coming to this diner with his mother since he was a boy and their server, Peggy (at least that’s what her name tag said), had apparently been waiting on him for nearly just as long.

“Steven!” the pretty but tired-looking older woman exclaimed as she rushed to pull him into a warm embrace.  “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” she teased.

Steve chuckled and kissed her on the cheek before sitting back down.  “I’d never forget about my best girl now would I?  ‘Sides, you just saw me here last Wednesday.”

It was then that she finally seemed to notice Bucky sitting there quietly across from Steve.

“Well, who do we have here?” Peggy asked with an intrigued smile.

Bucky stood up to greet her properly, extending his hand to shake hers.  “My name is James Ma’am, but my friends call me Bucky”

“My name is Margaret but everyone calls me Peggy.  Except this one here,” she said nodding towards Steve.  “To him I’ve always just been ‘Aunt Pegs.”

Bucky chuckled and gave Steve a smirk.  “So, we both stacked the deck at the restaurants we chose, huh?”

Steve smiled bashfully at Bucky and looked at him like he’d just hung the moon.  “Yeah, I guess we did.”

Sensing that this was more than just two friends having a bite, Peggy handed them each a menu and went to take her leave.

“Well Bucky, it’s a pleasure to meet you.  I’ll be back in a moment to take your orders.”  She placed a hand gently on his shoulder and locked her chocolate brown eyes with his as she leaned down closer to speak more intimately.

“And, thank you.  For your service.  None of us would enjoy the freedoms we take for granted today if it weren’t for the sacrifices made by brave, noble souls like you and Steven.”

Bucky blinked and tried to swallow around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.  He tried to reply but couldn’t seem to make his mouth work without the threat of releasing an ugly sob.  Instead he nodded once to acknowledge her heartfelt sentiments.  She squeezed his shoulder gently once more before walking away.

Not unlike the night before, they’d ordered enough food to feed five sumo wrestlers and every last bite of was incredible.  There were so many plates piled onto their table, it was hard to find an empty space to sit their coffee cups down.  In between bites of fluffy, fresh blueberry pancakes and crisp, crunchy bacon, the boys chatted comfortably, exchanging playful glances and dopey, smitten smiles.  Peggy inadvertently burst into their little happy oblivion bubble as she reached between them to refill their coffees.

“Can I get you two love birds anything else?” she asked with a warm smile.

Steve’s cheeks were quickly mottled with dark pink patches as he chewed self-consciously on his bottom lip.  Bucky just smiled even wider and sat back in his seat.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bucky teased.  Peggy rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“Honey, I know love-struck, star-filled, goo-goo eyes when I see ‘em,” she retorted before turning her warm gaze solely on Steve.  “It looks good on you, Steven.  Happiness.”

“Thanks,” Steve replied as he reached across the table to take Bucky’s hand in his own.  “And, this is only our second date,” he added with a gratified grin.

Peggy laughed heartily.  “Well, just don’t forget to send your ‘Aunt Pegs’ an invitation to the wedding!” she called over shoulder with a wink as she turned to wait on another table.

“Peggy!!”  Steve exclaimed sounding equal parts embarrassed and scandalized.

“Sorry,” he apologized to an amused looking Bucky, pulling his hand away to use both of them to cover his once again flushed face.  “Her and my mother have been conspiring to marry me off ever since I got discharged.”

Bucky chuckled and decided to save Steve any further embarrassment by quickly changing the subject.  Regardless of how adorable the blushing blond looked.

“So,” he said casually as he plucked a strip of bacon off of his plate and bit it half.  He chewed it twice and swallowed it quickly to continue his thought.  “Got any big plans for the rest of the week?”

“You mean besides working off the ten thousand calories we’ve each managed to consume this weekend?” Steve asked as he slumped back in the booth and rubbed his belly.  Bucky just laughed and nodded in response.

“Well, I have lunch plans with Tony on Wednesday,” he said as he reached in back pocket.  “Speaking of Tony…” he pulled a business card out and slid it hesitantly across the table to Bucky.  Steve fidgeted with his coffee mug looking a little nervous as Bucky picked it up.

“I, um, hope you don’t mind that I texted Tony and told him that you were considering meeting up with him.”

Steve absently scratched the nape of his neck as he continued sheepishly, “He’ll be in his office tomorrow morning if you, you know… if you want to drop by.”

Bucky twirled the card in his fingers.  “What about my workout with Sam?”

“Oh, uh I can work you out at lunch time instead if you’d like.”

“You gonna take it easier on me now?” Bucky asked with a smirk.

“Ha!” Steve barked.  “Don’t count on it.  Seems like whenever I’m with you, things only get harder.”

Bucky gave him a pleased little smile.  “Just the way I like it.”  He slipped the card into his coat pocket and nodded.  “Okay, I’ll drop by.”

***

Bucky walked into the lobby of Stark Industries, a glass and stainless steel skyscraper monument to the company’s president and CEO, Tony Stark.  The massive, modern lobby was filled with people dressed in suits speaking into their StarkPhones while the hurried clacking from their shoes trekking across the expansive, gleaming marble floors echoed loudly in his ears.  If the building entrance was this intimidating, Bucky could only imagine what the rest of the place held, and he suddenly found the thought of being lost in this highfalutin corporate workplace daunting.  He was seriously considering turning tail and leaving when the tall, young African American fellow manning the receptionist desk looked up from what Bucky assumed was a computer (but looked more like something one would find in the new Star Trek movies), flashed a million dollar smile, and cheerfully said “How can I help you, sir?”

“I’m supposed to meet Tony Stark.  My name is Bucky Barnes.  I was told he’d be expecting me.”  The receptionist registered the slightest bit of doubt, or maybe surprise, when Bucky said “Tony Stark”.  In his hand Bucky held up the business card Steve had given him.  He’d kept the card in his pocket, pulling it out and staring at it, turning it over in his hand and absent-mindedly tapping it on things.  It was as much a memento of Steve as it was an invitation to a potentially life-changing opportunity.  Then again, Steve in and of himself could be considered a life-changing opportunity.  And as unsure as Bucky felt about prosthetics shopping, he was certain about his burgeoning feelings for the gorgeous trainer and figured if it made Steve happy, what harm could it do?

Even with the business card in hand and understanding Steve’s close relationship with the eccentric CEO, Bucky secretly hoped just a little that his name might not be on whatever list the receptionist was perusing, and he’d be politely declined entry.  He could tell Steve he tried to follow through with the meeting, but clearly there’d been a mix-up somewhere and things just didn’t pan out.  Just then the receptionist smiled again, and said “Oh, yes, here you are sir.  Please follow me right this way.”

Bucky expected the man to lead him to the one of the banks of elevators that flanked the walls on either side of the reception desk, but instead the man tapped a code into a nearly invisible keypad on the side of his desk, and the wall behind him whirred open to reveal a concealed executive elevator.  “Just enter here, say ‘Tony Stark, please’, and the elevator will take you to whichever floor Mr. Stark happens to be on right now.”

“Wow…” Bucky muttered, impressed with the gleaming steel box he was entering.  If it hadn’t been intimated this was an elevator, Bucky would’ve assumed he was just entering a tiny cube-shaped room.  There were no buttons on the wall to pick a floor, no railings, no phone or emergency stop.  As he stepped inside the doors closed behind him, and once sealed there was no evidence there had ever been an opening there.  “Hello,” said a disembodied, vaguely British-sounding voice from the speakerless walls.

“Tony Stark, please,” Bucky stated.  He made sure to enunciate the words clearly.

“Right away, sir,” the disembodied, vaguely British voice replied.  Bucky expected to feel a rising motion (or perhaps a sinking motion, as Tony Stark could very well be in some secret sub-basement of a sub-basement), but he felt no movement at all.  Everything seemed perfectly stationary.  Bucky suddenly became very worried that he was trapped in a small room with no open-door button or emergency call button.  But his fear didn’t even have time to spike before a different wall opened up to reveal a long, well-lit hallway.  Bucky might’ve gone up fifty floors or down twenty.  He had no way of knowing and no bearings to inform him.  The whole “Space Aged Technologies” aspect of the building was doing nothing to allay Bucky’s disconcerting fears.  Quite the opposite actually.

As he stepped out of his would-be marking-less containment cube, the disembodied voice said “Mr. Stark is down the hall, at the fifth door on the left.  Have a good day.”

“Thanks, Disembodied Voice,” Bucky replied as he turned down the hall.  At the fifth door on the left he stopped, paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.  “Mr. Stark?” he asked, hoping to sound confident but knowing his voice was betraying him.

“It’s open,” came a voice from inside.  Bucky reached for a door handle, but no door grip was present.  Just a slightly raised rectangle where the door handle should’ve been.  As his hand neared the rectangle, Bucky heard the faintest of whirring sounds, and then the door slid open.  Bucky entered, wondering how anything in this building was able to pass fire codes.

“Mr. Barnes, I presume?” asked a tall, handsome, dark-haired man with gratuitously sculpted facial hair.  He glanced up from a tablet, and his question traveled through several semi-translucent holographic displays that floated between him and Bucky.  “Are you not Mr. Barnes?” he continued when Bucky didn’t immediately reply.  “It would be a stunning coincidence if a random one-armed man appeared right before I was expecting an unrelated, totally different one-armed man.  There’s definitely a ‘Fugitive’ joke to be made somewhere though.”

“Well, it is a prosthetics lab,” said Bucky.  “Limbless people can’t be that uncommon.”

“Touché,” Stark countered.

“Mr. Stark,” Bucky said as he walked around the displays and desks surrounding Tony Stark and extended his hand.

“Mr. Barnes,” said Tony as he shook Bucky’s hand.  “Wait, you are Bucky Barnes, right?  There are a ton of one-armed men floating around this place.  It can get confusing.”

“I am, sir.  And I want to thank you for seeing me.  Steve Rogers was pretty adamant that I come here and intrude upon your time.”

“Well, Mr. Barnes, common acquaintances are what makes the world go ‘round.  That, and gravitational physics.”  Stark set the tablet down and began swiping images from the displays in front of him until they all went blank, and then a shirtless picture of Bucky appeared looming large in each floating frame.  It wasn’t quite a photograph of him, but rather an extremely accurate photo-realistic likeness.  Tony waved his hand over one of the Buckys and he disappeared, replaced by what seemed to be the official James Barnes service history and medical records.

“So, why are you here, Mr. Barnes?”

“Please call me Bucky, sir,” he started to answer, confused.  “And like I said, Steve Rogers suggested that I…”

“No no no,” Tony interjected, politely yet still curtly.  “Why are you here now, looking for a prosthetic?  You’ve been an amputee for quite some time.  If anything, Steve Rogers should’ve sent you here to get an upgrade on whatever VA monstrosity they strapped on you years ago.  Assuming you had met Steve years ago, of course.”

“Well sir, those VA monstrosities just never felt right.  They never felt like they were a part of me.  They were just hulking appendages that weren’t helpful and didn’t fool anyone and seemed to only remind me of what I’d lost.  I guess I just figured I’d rather be all of what was left of me than parts of what was taken from me.”

“I can understand that,” Tony said, absent-mindedly rubbing his chest.

Bucky shrugged.  “So I’m afraid I might be wasting your time, Mr. Stark.  Unless you can grow me an actual arm.”

“You can call me Tony.  Any friend of Steve’s is a friend of mine I’m cautiously optimistic won’t be a horrible person and colossal waste of time and money.”  Stark started mimicking paging through a file on one of the displays, and images on the screen began shuffling.  The display settled on a gleaming metal limb that looked every bit like an actual human arm, except a bright stainless steel silver in color.  “We can’t grow you an actual arm, not yet, but we do have this.”  Tony folded his arms and stood back, obviously impressed with what he was presenting.

“I’m not gonna lie, Tony.  That’s a hell of a lot nicer than what they tried to fit on me at the VA hospital.”

“Just you wait, Sergeant.  For as nice as this little baby looks, its beauty is much more than skin deep.”  Bucky looked sideways at Tony.  “Errr… as it were,” Stark corrected.

“The first generation of this type of prosthetic is mostly a super light-weight titanium alloy outer shell.  We haven’t quite perfected a suitable synthetic skin yet, but with any luck we’ll add that to later generations.  The inside is mostly an array of bio-electric circuitry that mimics your own nervous system.  For all intents and purposes your body would recognize and control this as if it was your own natural arm.  The rest is servos and what-not in lieu of musculature.  You’ll have the exact same range of motion as a typical human limb, though we might decide to ‘improve’ upon that in later iterations.”

Tony took a step back and basked in the halcyon glow of his creation.  “Sergeant, we can rebuild you.  We have the technology.  We have the capability to build the world's first bionic man.  James Barnes will be that man.  Better than you were before.  Better, stronger, faster.”

“Well, it might hurt Steve’s feelings if I didn’t at least try one on,” Bucky said.

“Oh, you can’t try that on.  Not yet at any rate.  That’s just a draft of a diagram of a proposal of a prototype.  You seem like a nice guy, Bucky, but you don’t get that far on a first date.  Maybe with Steve you do, but not with multi-million dollar robotics conglomerates.”

Bucky visibly blushed at Tony’s mention of Steve and dating.  Tony smirked at Bucky’s reaction, pleased with his ability to get a rise out of Steve’s “special friend”.

“First we need to get some very specific, very accurate measurements.  And then we need to run a whole array of tests measuring your compatibility and capability.  And after that there are like 400 other hoops we need to jump through.  It’s a pretty complicated, pretty intricate, and pretty goddamn expensive procedure.”

Bucky was a bit taken aback.  “Mr. Stark, Tony, how much are we talking?  Because I gotta be honest, there isn’t very much chance I could foot the bill on something that looks that nice and involves at least 402 hoops to jump through at a facility like this.”

“Bucky, dear lad, you won’t be footing the bill for this.  Perish the thought.  Six million dollars wouldn’t even buy all five fingers on a little beauty like this.  People far, far above your pay grade will be footing the bill for this.  And they’ll be happy to do it.”

“Well, then, why me?” Bucky asked, with genuine curiosity and concern.

Tony Stark flashed a broad, Cheshire cat smile.

“Because I need a guinea pig, Mr. Barnes.  And because Steve Rogers seems to think you’re cute.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love reading your comments so please leave one. They feed my soul and spur my writing!!
> 
> P.S. Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Americans and a very, happy birthday to our beloved Captain America!!


	9. Hearts on Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealing a page from Rocky's playbook, Sam pushes Bucky to the brink in the club. Later, Nat and Bucky 'dish' over fish. And Tony gets his guinea pig in the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the extended time between updates. Summer is such a crazy time for me. Hope you enjoy the latest installment.
> 
> Also I'd like to give a shout-out to StarbucksXLove for her unbelievable support and encouragement and for beta-ing this chapter for me. Thank you!! Such a sweetheart! *hugs* <3
> 
> Enjoy!!

When Bucky arrived at Rally at noon, he was both pleased and disappointed to learn that Sam’s other client had cancelled on him at the last minute, leaving him free to work with Bucky after all.  He liked the way Sam encouraged and challenged him to push himself to the brink of his abilities.  And the more time they spent together, the more Bucky liked his jovial, witty, sarcastic-as-hell trainer.  On the other hand, he’d spent the entirety of his commute to the club fantasizing about working out with Steve again.  Staring into those beautiful, ocean blue eyes, perfectly framed by unfairly long lashes.  Inhaling the blond’s familiar, clean smell.  Getting high on the scent that made him instantly feel utterly happy and shamelessly horny.  Having those big, warm hands lightly gripping and steering his body as he corrected Bucky’s form, his touches lingering on Bucky’s tingling skin a little longer than absolutely necessary.  As the blood started to rush south of his waistband with every passing thought of Steve, Bucky decided that maybe it really was for the best that Sam had a cancellation today after all.

***

“Hearts… on… FIRE…”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he reached the apex of a sit-up he was busy struggling through on the inverted bench.  This proved a costly error, as it allowed for sweat to seep into his eyes.

“Goddammit,” he winced, and laid back for another rep.

“Strong DESIRE…” Sam continued, half singing, half laughing.

“RAGES… DEEP… WITHIN!”

“What the hell are you singing?” Bucky exhaled through gritted teeth at the crest of another sit-up before dropping back down to repeat the process.  He could barely breathe, let alone speak.  His abs felt like they were being ripped apart by a drunken, rabid wolverine, and he was getting more than a little light-headed.  Sit-ups were an especially difficult exercise for Bucky, given his unequal weight distribution.  If he didn’t know better he’d think he was being punished.  That didn’t seem likely though.

“What am I singing?!?” repeated Sam.  He clapped his hands together and doubled over as he cracked up.

“It’s ‘Hearts on Fire,’ man.  You know, from the seminal training montage in Rocky IV?  Where true American hero Rocky Balboa does sit-ups to that song just like you are right now.  Only he does them hangin' upside down, suspended from a hay loft in a barn in Siberia, like a goddamned boss.  Now _that_ was a workout.  Then he beats the shit out of a roided up giant and single-handedly ends the Cold War.  Tangentially, he got brain damage from getting punched in the face, but mostly he did training montages and ended the reign of Soviet Russia.”

Bucky could only grunt in response as he pushed through the next rep.

Sam’s mood suddenly turned deadly serious.  “Why do you hate American cinema?” he asked.

Bucky stopped his sit-ups and turned to look at Sam.

“What?  Wait,” he said through quick, choppy breaths.  “You’ve been singing this entire time.  Were you even counting?”

“Counting?” Sam’s expression was blank.

“Oh.  Right.  Counting.  Yeah, you were finished like seventeen reps ago.  Maybe twenty-three.”

Bucky rolled off of the bench and collapsed on the gym floor.  He was a prone, one-armed pile of sweat and exhaustion.

“That was a hell of a job you did today, Barnes.”  Sam nudged the limp puddle Bucky had become with his foot as a positive reinforcing ‘Atta boy’.  “You really went above and beyond.”

Bucky very slowly pulled himself together and stood up.

“I mean, it definitely wasn’t Rocky worthy, not even Rocky V and that was garbage,” Sam continued.  “But, it was good.  Go hit the showers and I’ll see you next time.  Hopefully by then you’ll have found an appreciation for the classic works of Western Civilization.”

Bucky nodded a ‘Thanks’, slung his towel over his shoulder, and began limping toward the locker room.  He wanted to clutch his aching torso, but his pride made him think better of it.  That pride had been on the forefront of his mind ever since his meeting with Tony Stark.  For reasons he couldn’t quite verbalize he felt that admitting he needed a prosthetic was a sign of weakness, something to be pitied.  Even though he could see it was ridiculous, in his mind accepting his disability and living his life without succumbing to aid was the nobler, more dignified option.

Once in the locker room he slumped down on the bench in front of his locker.  His current exhaustion had only temporarily worked to distract him from the offer Tony Stark had made.  Bucky recognized it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that acquiescing to Tony would be some kind of betrayal to his inner self.  Conversely, it seemed like working with Tony would make Steve very happy.  And Bucky relished the idea of making Steve very happy.

So, if the scenario was viewed as a metaphorical scale, on one side would be “Once-in-a-lifetime, life-altering opportunity” and “Make Steve happy.”  On the other, nearly weightless, completely inconsequential side would be “Inane, ungrateful and irrational personal pride.”  Obviously Bucky knew what he should do.  But it was a tough thing to change who you thought you were, even if it’s unquestionably for the better.

“You look like you were rode hard and put away wet.”

Bucky lowered the towel from his face and smiled at the familiar voice.  Steve walked up behind him, grasping Bucky’s firm shoulders.

“So tense,” he said as he kneaded Bucky’s strained traps and delts.  “What did Sam make you do?  The Bataan Death March?”

Bucky relaxed, leaning back against Steve.  “Everything was going on like usual until I started doing inverted sit-ups…”

“Oh, like Rocky in Rocky IV?” Steve interjected.

“What the hell is it with you guys and Rocky IV?” Bucky all but yelled, exasperated.  He turned around to see Steve chuckling.

“We’re trainers.  It’s the greatest training montage in the history of everything.  It’s kinda our thing.  Plus Rocky ends the Cold War.”

Bucky rolled his eyes again, this time without the threat of sweat draining into them.

“You should watch Rocky III,” Steve continued.  “Great workout montages, because, you know, it’s a Rocky movie.  And it’s the gayest movie ever.”

“Really?” Bucky asked.

“Oh yeah.  Brokeback Mountain watches Rocky III and says ‘Whoa guys, tone it down.’”

Bucky slumped back against Steve, this time laughing.

“Sooo…” said Steve, expanding his massage to include Bucky’s chest.  “What did Tony have to say?”

“He said I would make a suitable guinea pig.”

“Sounds like something Tony would say,” Steve agreed.

“He also said you thought I was cute.”  Bucky reached up and grasped one of Steve’s hands in his own.

Steve ran his free hand through Bucky’s hair.  “That definitely doesn’t sound like something Tony would say.”

At the sound of footsteps and voices Steve released Bucky and sat down next to him on the bench, their privacy suspended as two men who’d clearly been playing racquetball entered their section of the locker room.

“What are you going to do?” Steve asked, his voice lowered so Bucky would feel more comfortable.

“I haven’t put a lot of thought into it.”  They both knew he was lying.  “Honestly?  My first instinct is to run away screaming and never look back.”  Bucky paused, and then smiled at Steve.

“And since I’m always a little slow on the uptake, the logical thing would be to do the exact opposite of my first instinct.  I think I’m going to do it.”

Steve put his arm around Bucky and hugged him.  “I hope it helps,” he said.

“If nothing else, it’ll be nice to finally be able to start a slow clap after one of Sam’s inspirational speeches,” Bucky joked.

“Well, there’s always that,” Steve said, as the sound of their laughter filled the locker room.

***

“You’re shitting me!” Natasha exclaimed as she stared across her eat-in kitchen table at Bucky.  She shook her head in disbelief as she expertly used her chopsticks to swirl a piece of spicy tuna roll in a small tray filled with low sodium soy sauce and an ungodly glob of wasabi paste that could kill a normal person with a single taste.

“I’m not.  I swear.  Apparently their parents were tight when they were kids.  Steve’s an only child, Stark’s an only child and I guess they bonded like brothers.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh as he picked up a piece of California roll with his fingers, dunked it like a doughnut in his own tiny trough of sauce and popped it into his mouth.

“Ou shoul shee Shteve’s condo,” Bucky said around the massive mouthful of soy-soaked rice, crab and avocado.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full James,” Natasha chided.  “I sure as hell hope you didn’t do that at Carmela’s on your date.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, swallowing the large bite down in a loud gulp before chasing it with a long swig of beer.

“Gimme a little credit, will ya?  I was a perfect gentleman.”

Natasha smirked, “Is that so?  Call me naive but I always thought a gentleman ended a first date with a firm handshake.  _Maybe_ a peck on the cheek?”

Bucky sighed and tried to ignore Nat’s goading, hoping she’d just drop the subject as he stole a forkful of her seaweed salad.

Wishful thinking.

“Definitely not with a pecker between the cheeks,” she teased.  “That’s gotta be the opposite of gentlemanly.”

At that, Bucky choked on the sip of beer he’d just started to swallow.  Sputtered drops of mouth-warmed brew dribbled down his chin.

“Jesus Christ, Nat!” Bucky complained as he wiped his face with the end of his sleeve.  “You kiss Wilson with that mouth?”

“Oh I do a whole lot more than just kiss him with it,” she drawled with a devilish gleam in her eyes.  “Would you like me to tell you all about it?”

“NO!” Bucky yelled.  “I like Sam.  He’s a good trainer.  Please don’t ruin that for me.”

“Fine,” Natasha chuckled.  “So, where were we?” she asked as she poured a little more soy sauce into her tray.

Bucky just shrugged, enjoying what he knew was a temporary reprieve from Natasha’s inevitable inquisition.

“Oh yeah, I think you were attempting to tell me about Steve’s condo with your mouth full, right?”

Bucky laughed and sighed.  “Right.”

Natasha smirked and plucked a piece of yellowfin out of the take-out container, plunging it into her toxic concoction to marinate.

“I’m listening,” she said, waving her chopsticks at him in an effort to encourage Bucky to continue the conversation.

“It’s absolutely incredible.  Like fucking ‘Selling New York’ insane.”

Natasha shot him a cynical look as she turned the piece of tuna over in the sauce to fully coat it.

“I know… I thought I had the wrong address when I went to pick him up but it turns out being best friends with Tony Stark has its perks.”  Bucky looked down at his hand and couldn’t help but think about how Steve’s relationship with Tony was about to benefit him.

“Huh,” Natasha mused, breaking Bucky out of his reverie.  “Steve doesn’t seem like the type of guy to take a handout.”

“What?” Bucky asked, taken aback for a moment.  “He’s not.  I mean he didn’t really want to move into the place but when he got back home I guess Tony was pretty adamant about it and Steve didn’t want to hurt his feelings so…”

“Huh,” Natasha said again before shoving the piece saturated sushi into her mouth.  They sat in companionable silence while Nat chewed and swallowed, her eyes watering and her nose starting to run from the unsurprising assault on her sinuses.  She took a swig of beer and dabbed the tears from the corner of her eyes with a napkin as Bucky shook his head at her self-induced torture.

“Lucky Steve,” she finally said sitting back in her chair.  “I wonder if Stark’s as big of a loud-mouthed, narcissistic asshole as the media makes him out to be.  At least to people who aren’t Steve.”

“He’s not.  I mean he’s a bit eccentric but I’d be willing to bet so are a lot of other genius billionaires,” Bucky stated only somewhat defensively.

“Sounds like you might be speaking from personal experience,” Nat prodded with a curious look.

Bucky really hadn’t planned on mentioning anything to anyone about his meeting with Tony earlier in the day but he knew Natasha would needle it out of him one way or another.  She always did.  Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he felt the urge to talk about it.  Like a growing itch, beckoning to be scratched.

“I am.” Bucky answered before nervously clearing his throat.

Natasha just cocked an eyebrow at him and waited for the rest of the story.

“Met him this morning at Stark Industries,” Bucky said as he studied the sushi box and considered his next selection as if he hadn’t just said something completely unexpected.

“Why?” Natasha asked.  “Were you there for a job interview?  I thought you liked it at SHIELD?”

Bucky put his chopsticks down and sat back in his chair.

“I do.  So no… I wasn’t there for an interview.  I went to meet with Tony about a new piece of technology he’s working on.”

Natasha remained silent and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Uh, Steve.  On our date.  Tony’s card he gave me,” Bucky stumbled over his words.

Natasha got up to grab a fresh pumpkin ale for each of them from the fridge.  “Is that right Yoda?” she teased.

“My arm,” Bucky blurted, ignoring Nat’s joke as he looked down at his stump.  “Steve said Tony might be able to help.”

Natasha grabbed the opener off of the counter, popped off the caps and handed one to Bucky with an understanding nod.  Bucky took a long draw from the ice cold brew before taking a deep breath to steady his nerves as he began to pick at and peel away the bottle label with his thumbnail.  He then proceeded to describe everything that had happened from the time Steve had handed him the billionaire’s business card to his meeting earlier that day with the genius.  When he finished telling his tale to Nat, he looked up to meet the intense gaze he knew she’d had fixed on him the entire time he’d been speaking.

He wasn’t really prepared for what he saw.  Natasha was smiling at him weakly while she struggled to keep the tears that were brimming in her eyes from spilling down her flushed cheeks.  Bucky had only seen his normally stoic friend cry on two occasions in all the years they’d known one another.  Both times they were in a hospital.  The first time, Natasha had just defied her doctors and the odds by taking her first tentative steps without support.  Bucky had burst into tears himself at the sight of wobbling form, realizing in that very moment that everything was going to be alright.  The second time, Bucky had just been transported to the V.A. Hospital in New York from the triage unit in Afghanistan.  He’d regained consciousness long enough to see Nat gripping his remaining hand tightly between her own, weeping quietly as she pressed soft kisses over each of his knuckles.  So to see her looking so vulnerable and on the verge of crying now was a bit of a shock.

Before Bucky could say a word, Nat rolled her eyes and laughed at herself, shaking her head with apparent disbelief that she’d suddenly been overcome with emotion.  She got up quickly and moved to wrap her arms tightly around her best friend.  She kissed the top of his head and murmured into his hair, “I’m so proud of you, James.”

***

“I promise this won’t hurt.  Probably.”

Tony was far more focused on the tablet he was typing on that the reassuring patter he was muttering for Bucky’s benefit.

“Actually, it might hurt.  I honestly haven’t considered that before now.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide.  He leaned forward on the massive metal chair he’d been reclining in, and yelped “Wait.  What?!”

“Guinea pigs don’t speak, Mr. Barnes.  And obviously I’m joking.  About me considering it, that is.  Not about the pain though.  But I do consider everything.  Considering things is part of being a genius.”

Before Bucky could continue his protestations Tony tapped on his tablet a few last times and the giant metal chair whirred to life, tilting back even more and causing Bucky to slide back into place.  Articulated metal straps emerged from the chair and clamped over Bucky’s arm, legs, and torso.  Seriously though, don’t move,” Tony said.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a possibility right now,” Bucky replied.

Tony smiled.  “Good,” he said.  A long, skinny arm lurched out from the back of the chair and swung out over Bucky.  At the end of the arm was something that looked like a flattened wine bottle, but with a mirror-like finish.  Bucky watched, motionless, as it positioned itself over the center of his body, emitting a red light that spread over his entire being in the form of a perfectly even grid.  The chair beeped again and the lines of the grid became thicker, causing the squares of the grid to become smaller.  This continued until the grid transformed into a solid blanket of red that draped over Bucky from head to toe.  For a few minutes all Bucky could see was red, and he was about to ask if his eyes should even be open when the red light disappeared.  The articulating arm returned to its compartment inside the back of the chair, as did the straps that had secured Bucky in place.  Even though he was freed, Bucky’s natural inclination was to remain still.  Which in its own way spoke volumes about his psyche.

“Well Mr. Barnes,” declared Tony as he began typing again on his tablet, “according to these readings you are, in fact, missing an arm.”

Bucky sat up.  “Steve wasn’t kidding when he said you’re the best,” he retorted.

“Steve’s contractually obligated to say that,” Tony replied.  “It’s part of his lease agreement.”

Stark set the tablet down in a docking station.  Then he walked to the other side of the lab, as Bucky stared on silently.  Tony stopped at an otherwise unremarkable section of wall and pressed his hand against it.  The wall glowed blue where it made contact with his hand.  Then, after a moment’s pause, a compartment in the wall opened, revealing a metal and glass canister.  Inside the canister was what appeared to Bucky to be a skeletal arm, from just past the elbow to the fingertips.  Only instead of bone the skeleton looked like it was made entirely of stainless stell.  Tony removed the canister and returned to Bucky.

“Holy shit, is it done already?” Bucky asked, genuinely shocked.

“What, this?  No, this is my arm.”  Tony set the canister down on the counter next to Bucky.  “I mean, this is my arm in that I made it and own it.  Not that it’s part of my body.”

He unsealed the canister and gingerly removed the metal structure.  “This is my first, my most base attempt.  A prototype’s prototype.  A Mark I, if you will.”

“Oh,” said Bucky.  “I see.  What version would my prosthetic be?”

“If everything goes according to plan and we don’t suffer any egregious set-backs, which I don’t foresee because, as I humbly mentioned earlier: I’m a genius, your arm would be somewhere around Mark 42.”

Tony carefully placed the Mark I next to what remained of Bucky’s missing arm, which consisted of about six inches.  Once Tony touched the end of the metal skeleton to Bucky’s flesh, tiny barbs extended from various parts of the arm and plunged into Bucky’s skin.

“Ow!” he screamed.

“Oh, I forgot, that part might hurt a little,” Tony smirked.

“It’s not really long enough,” Bucky said, the pinching pain quickly subsiding.

“I hope you don’t talk to Steve like that,” quipped Tony.  Before Bucky could reply, the top sides of the arm split apart and extended up, enveloping the remnant of Bucky’s limb and coupling with it.  Then the metal “bones” telescoped out, making the appendage longer.  To the naked eye the fake arm was now exactly the same length as Bucky’s flesh and blood arm.

“Go ahead,” Tony said, “take it for a test drive.”

Bucky raised his temporary hand, and started touching the thumb to each of the metal fingertips.  He was amazed.  The process was essentially thoughtless, just an intuitive action like it would be with his own hand.  He made a fist, and then the Vulcan “Live Long and Prosper” sign.

“Nerd…” Tony muttered.  He took the final drink from a can of Coke, shook it next to his ear to make sure it was empty, and eyed Bucky.  “Here,” he said.  “Catch.”  He tossed the can at Bucky, who caught it with his flesh and blood hand.

“You really missed the point of that exercise,” Tony said.

“Sorry.”

Tony took the can back, and set it on the counter.  Then he picked up the tablet again, typed in a command, and the metal straps emerged of the chair emerged again, quickly securing every part of Bucky except the prosthetic arm.

“Whoa!  What the hell?” Bucky quickly barked.  Tony picked up the empty can again and whipped it at his captive.  Out of instinct Bucky reached up and snatched it out of the air with the metal arm.  He was completely dumbfounded that he was now holding the Coke can.  With the trappings of forethought removed, the prosthesis had been used as though it was every bit as natural a part of Bucky as any of his other limbs.

“You deserve a prize for that,” said Tony.  He released the straps, and from another semi-hidden compartment in the lab counter he produced another can of Coke.  This time he handed it to Bucky.  “Open it,” he said.  “And not with your natural flesh hand.”

Bucky held the can in his flesh and blood hand, but as commanded he attempted opening it with the metal fingers.  It took some doing, and a little cheating by raising the tab slightly with his flesh forefinger, but before long he was able to pop open the tab.  He took a long, proud, triumphant swig.

Unfortunately halfway through this triumphant swig the metal hand crushed the nearly full can with enough force to spray the Coke all over Bucky’s face.

“Well…” Tony said, as he looked around for something to clean up with, “maybe you should wait to dole out any Handy J’s until after you've worked out the kinks.”

Bucky tried setting the crushed can down on the chair, but instead it dropped to the floor.  His demeanor had changed from pride to profound embarrassment.  Tony ran to the bathroom and returned with a handful of paper towels.  Bucky reached out to take some and begin cleaning himself up, but rather than hand them to him Tony began cleaning off the prosthesis.  He detached it and patted it down as he returned it to its container.  Bucky sat there, still covered in Coke.

Satisfied that the arm was sufficiently cleaned, Tony resealed the glass.  “You’d be amazed at how corrosive that stuff is,” he said as he walked the container back to its hidden compartment.  Once it was safely stowed away he returned to Bucky, who was still dripping with the sticky brown liquid.  “Oh, right,” Tony said.  He handed Bucky a single paper towel.

“I’d say today was a complete success,” Tony said as Bucky tried to maximize the absorbent surface area of the lone paper towel.  “If you could crush a can with such dexterity with that arm, imagine all the cans you’ll be able to crush when you get a far more advanced prosthetic that’s actually designed specifically for you.  You’ll be a one man aluminum recycling tour de force.  It’ll really raise your standard of living.”

“At least it wasn’t a beer,” Bucky said, his attitude one of disappointed resignation.

“Oh I’d never let you waste a beer,” replied Tony.  Then he reached into the same compartment where the Coke had been and produced a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale.  “You want one?” he asked.

“It’s not even noon yet,” Bucky responded.

“Only if you look at a clock,” said Tony.

Bucky slumped back in the chair. “Yeah,” he said.  “Gimme one.”

Tony grabbed another bottle, and then popped each one open by smacking the cap as he pressed it against the steel arm of the chair.  Bucky thanked him for the beer and took a long swig.  He could still taste the Coke on his lips as he downed the mouthful of beer.

The two men drank quietly together for awhile, until Tony broke the silence.  “In retrospect, I’m glad I decided to toss you the can of Coke instead of the kitten I was planning on throwing at you.  That could’ve gone south quickly.”

Bucky finally smiled.  “I wouldn’t even know what to do with a pussy at this point,” he said.  Then both men cracked up, filling the lab with the release of their laughter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said it before and I'll say it again. I live for kudos and comments and welcome critiques. Please leave some love and/or feedback... I appreciate it more than you could know. Thanks!!


	10. Miss Takenidentity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rally crew gathers at Quiver for a helluva Halloween party. Happy Haunting!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!
> 
> No, this isn't a trick. It's an update at long last! I hope you'll find this chapter as much of a treat to read as it was for me to write :-D
> 
> Potentially Offensive Content Warning:  
> Please note that, in the context of this story, Clint is an unapologetic, little shit. You've probably already surmised this from his appearance in previous chapters. However, he notches the insensitive comments/potentially offensive jokes and comments to another level in this installment.
> 
> None of the insensitive views, jokes and comments are meant to be malicious and do not represent the views or attitudes of this author. You'll see that none of his friends take offense to his words and I hope none of you will either. It's all in politically incorrect good fun.
> 
> Enjoy!!

When Bucky returned to Rally the following morning, the entire place had been transformed.  The normally subdued health club lobby was now covered in phony cobwebs with fat rubber spiders, littered with bright orange pumpkins, and haunted by not-so-scary ghosts and bats that’d been strung to hang from the drop ceiling framework.  Between his dates with Steve and his appointments with Stark, Bucky had completely forgotten that it was Halloween.

Kylie greeted him enthusiastically at the front desk.  “Happy Halloween, Bucky!”

She stood up and spun in a circle to show off her costume.  The ebullient blonde was dressed in a low cut, form-fitting, medieval-looking, crushed red velvet mini-dress with golden brocade bell sleeves.  Over top, she had a floor-length, powder blue, hooded cloak-style cape that was fastened around her neck with a matching grosgrain ribbon.  To finish the look, she had an incongruous pair of shiny, white, patent-pleather go-go boots that zipped up to her knees.  Bucky had no fucking clue what the ditzy desk-worker was pretending to be.

“Well.  Whatdyathink?” she asked excitedly, flipping the large hood up onto her head.

“Uh…” Bucky stammered.  “Are you… Slutty Virgin Mary?” he guessed with a wince.

Kylie burst out laughing at what she thought was an intentionally hilarious joke on the veteran’s part.

Bucky laughed along immediately to cover his mistake and started racking his brain for a potential alternative for the getup she was sporting.

He studied her ensemble closer and was certain he’d figured it out.

“Feudal Barbie!” he exclaimed, with a triumphant smile.

Kylie looked at him like he’d grown a second head.  Or hand.  “I don’t even like arguing, let alone have a feud with anyone,” she ironically argued.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably in the cool air of the lobby space, a fine sheen of sweat began to form on his brow.  He readjusted his faded Mets baseball cap and scratched distractedly at the nape of his neck to buy himself a little more time to think.

“I, uh…” he started, ready to admit that he was completely clueless.

“I’m Maid in Manhattan!” she interrupted with an exaggerated eye roll.  The only thing missing was the unspoken ‘Duh!’”

Bucky blinked a few times as he tried to make the connection between her clothing and her claim.

“That’s… great,” he finally stammered in reply.

Kylie smiled and nodded in agreement.  “I know, right?”

Bucky’s head was beginning to spin.

“Sooooo… what’re you gonna be?” Kylie sing-songed, as she sat back down, seemingly satisfied with their odd exchange.

“What?” Bucky asked, before sniffing the air suspiciously.  Maybe there was a gas leak in the building?

“For Clint’s party tonight.  At Quiver.  What’re you going to dress up as?”

Bucky vaguely remembered Natasha mentioning something about a private party at the archer’s bar but he’d obviously failed to think about it much more after that or at all for that matter given his other preoccupations.

Sam strode into the lobby just then much to Bucky’s relief.

“It’s a surprise,” Sam answered for the befuddled brunet.  “And I know how much you love surprises, right?” he asked Kylie with a knowing smile.

That was all it took to distract the cheerful receptionist.

“Oh, I do!  I love surprises!  Especially Halloween surprises!  Isn’t Halloween the best?!?”

Sam quickly ushered Bucky into the club.  “Sure is,” he answered over his shoulder with a wink.

As the two friends walked towards the cardio floor, Sam elbowed Bucky playfully.

“You forgot about the party, didn’t you?” he chuckled.  “Nat said she had a feeling you weren’t listening to a word she said.  That’s a dangerous habit to get into.  You know that, right?”

“Yes and yes,” Bucky answered, shaking his head at his own absentmindedness.

“Well, she won’t hear it from me,” Sam assured as they took their posts on neighboring elliptical machines.  “Just don’t show up late to the party.  You know better than me.  There’ll be no helping you if you do.”

“I dunno,” Bucky said as he adjusted his stance on the gliding foot plates and began to enter his settings on the control panel.  “I’m not sure I’m gonna go.”

Sam shot him a cartoonishly incredulous look.

“What?” Bucky replied, sounding slightly put off.  “Unlike J-Lo out there, I don’t love Halloween.  I’ve seen enough real horror to last me two lifetimes.  I’m fine skipping a holiday that celebrates creepy shit and death.”

“J-Lo?”

“Don’t ask,” Bucky answered.  “Besides, I don’t have a costume and I don’t feel like being publicly roasted for showing up without one.”

“Nah,” Sam waved a hand dismissively in Bucky’s direction.  “No one’ll give you a hard time, man,” he assured.  “Except maybe Natasha.  And probably Clint.”  He paused for a moment before nodding with certainly.  “Yeah, definitely Clint.”

Bucky snorted at his trainer.  “Exactly!”

“Alright,” Sam sighed, defeated.  “Skip the party, Sarge.”  Bucky couldn’t help but notice the tiny smirk that curved up the corner of Sam’s mouth.  “I’m sure Sharon’ll be more than happy to keep Steve company tonight.”

Bucky halted his movements on the machine full stop and looked over at Sam accusingly.

“Excuse me?” he huffed as he fought to catch his breath.  The lack of oxygen in his lungs having little to do with his minimal efforts to that point on the elliptical.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Sam said as he picked up the pace of his fluid pedaling.  “I ran into her on the way into the club this morning.  She sounded pretty excited about it.  Asked me if I knew if Steve was going to be there.”  Sam gave Bucky a pointed look and added, “She’s going as a cheerleader.  A Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader.”

Bucky just stood there for a moment gaping like a fish out of water.  Rationally, he knew that Sam was just goading him.  Steve liked him.  Bucky was sure of it.  They’d slept together and had amazing dates.  Hell, he’d told Bucky as much directly.  Still, their relationship was so fresh and new that he couldn’t help the sudden spike of jealously that zipped through his brain as he imagined the beautiful blonde, scantily clad in a pair of postage-stamp-sized, painted on shorts and a barely-there front-tie top, confidently climbing into Steve’s lap and shaking her voluptuous “pom-poms” right into his lover’s face.

Sam snapped Bucky out of his illusory thoughts before the stunned man could find the words to reply.

“So… see you at 8:00?”

Bucky didn’t hesitate.  “Yeah,” he nodded.  “See you at 8:00.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sam encouraged.  “Now, get those legs moving, soldier.  Don’t wanna look bad against the competition!  Have you seen that woman’s legs?  They go on for days...”

Bucky harrumphed and glared at his teasing trainer as he resumed his warm-up.  If he’d pushed himself a little harder than usual, well he sure as hell wouldn’t own up to it.  The two men worked out side-by-side for a few minutes in relative silence, with nothing but the soft whirring sounds of the low-impact equipment and their own panting breaths.

“Three more minutes,” Sam announced.

“So, what’re you going as anyway?” Bucky asked curiously.

“No way, man,” Sam answered.  “I’m not telling.  It’s gonna be a surprise and I’m gonna win first prize for best costume,” he crowed.

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “Whatever you say, man.  Tell me something though?”

“What?”

“What the hell is Kylie supposed to be?”

Sam chuckled and shook his head, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

***

Steve had been so busy working with clients that morning he didn’t have a chance to stop and chat with Bucky at all.  They shared a few warm smiles and appreciative glances from across the weight room but that was all he was able to manage without neglecting his duties or appearing unprofessional.  He noticed that Bucky looked tired and maybe a little anxious and he wanted nothing more than to go wrap the former soldier up in his arms and card his fingers through his soft, brown hair.  Instead, he settled for asking Sam how their workout went and texting Bucky between appointments.

 **_Hey sexy!  How’s it goin?  Sorry I couldn’t stop and talk with you this morning :-(_** **_  
_ **

**_Hey yourself, handsome.  No worries!  We can catch up tonight, right?_ **

**_Of course!  I’m going to my mom’s before for a quick bite and to hand out candy to the kids in her building, then I’ll be over right after._ **

**_Awwww… that’s so sweet!  Sweet like candy you are, Steve Rogers._ **

**_Oh stop, you’re making me blush!_ **

**_I like it when you blush.  Looks good on you._ **

Steve chewed softly on his own bottom lip as he typed his reply.

**_You know what looks good on you?_ **

**_What?_ **

**_My cum._ **

Bucky choked out a cough and looked around the sea of office cubicles to make sure that no one was watching as he quickly adjusted his semi-hard cock, internally cursing himself as he did for not electing to work from home that day.  He had to steer this conversation away from the path it was headed down.  Now.

**_Well, fuck.  I can’t argue with that.  Speaking of looking good… I should tell you that I don’t really have a costume for tonight.  Hope you don’t mind._ **

**_Why would I?  Just tell everyone you’re dressed as the hottest guy in the room.  It wouldn’t be a lie._ **

Bucky was the one who was visibly blushing now.

**_You’re such a sap._ **

**_Yes, we’ve established this already.  So?_ **

**_So, I can’t wait to see you tonight.  What are you going to wear?_ **

**_It’s a surprise._ **

**_Will I at least be able to recognize you?_ **

**_I think you’ll be able to pick me out of the crowd._ **

**_Alright, dork.  I gotta head to a meeting.  See you later._ **

**_I’ll be there with bells on!_ **

**_So you’re going as a reindeer?_ **

**_Bye, Buck._ **

**_A cat?_ **

**_Goodbye!_ **

**_Bye, Stevie :-)_** **_  
_ **

***

When the cab pulled up in front of Natasha’s building, Bucky almost thought he’d mistakenly given the driver the wrong address.  Like Sam and Steve, Natasha had refused to reveal what kind of costume she was planning to wear to the party that evening, reminding Bucky that fun surprises inevitably evaporated with age, with fewer to be found with every passing year.  She laughed off every preposterous prediction that he’d made—from naughty nurse to zombie ninja—while they sipped and savored the delicious pumpkin spice lattes Sam had picked up for them all while Bucky hit the showers.

He never would’ve guessed that his best friend would be waiting on the wide, jack-o-lantern lined steps in a pale pink tutu, with matching tights and ballet slippers.  Knowing Natasha, Bucky was sure that she had a matching pink leotard on underneath the short, black wool coat she’d worn over top to ward off the cold.  When she slid into the warm seat beside him, he got a better look at the perfectly formed bun on the top of her head and the unusually minimal amount of makeup she’d applied.  She looked soft and delicate, young and innocent.  Bucky barely recognized her.

“You know, Sam’s going to wonder why you didn’t come to the party tonight,” he teased.

“Very funny,” she replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Well, now you really look like your twelve,” Bucky chuckled.  “Did Sam dress up like a pedophile to match you?  Maybe he’ll go as a windowless van with a ‘Free Candy’ sign on the side.”

Natasha punched Bucky hard in the right shoulder.  “Gross!”

Bucky only laughed louder despite the pain now radiating through his aching deltoid.  Natasha folded her arms over her chest and sat up straighter in her seat, doing little to counter her childlike appearance.

“Asshole,” she said, fighting back a grin as Bucky continued to cackle, apparently lost to an incurable case of the giggles.

“Sorry!” he wheezed as he tried to calm down, wiping laughter-induced tears away with the back of his coat sleeve.  “You look amazing,” he said when he’d finally regained control of himself.  “Everyone’ll be doing a double-take when they see you, that’s for sure.”

“Good,” she answered, reaching out to massage the spot she’d just assaulted.  “I don’t want to become too predictable.  Someone’s gotta keep you boys on your toes.”

“Like ballerinas?” Bucky asked before slapping his leg and falling into another fit of laughter.  This time, Natasha couldn’t help but giggle right along with him.

“You know, I didn’t realize you were so funny, James,” she said sarcastically as the cab pulled to a stop in front of the bar.  “You must be dressed as a comedian.”

Bucky was still chuckling to himself as he fished some cash out of his pocket and handed it over.  The driver thanked him for the generous tip and offered one of his own as Bucky stepped out of the car.  “Don’t quit your day job, kid,” the older cabbie said as he flipped his rooftop light back on and pulled away from the curb.

The front door of the bar had been covered by a large “X” made out of fake, yellow police caution tape, the words “ENTER IF YOU DARE!” printed over and over along the thin, plastic strips.  One oversized jack-o-lantern stood guard on the threshold, its ghoulish face had been unsurprisingly pierced clean through the ‘temple’ by a long, thick arrow, a glob of stringy, orange ‘brains’ dangled menacingly from the end of the blunt tip.

Inside, the entire place radiated with an eerie purple glow.  The bulbs that normally cast a warm, soft light throughout the cozy tavern had been mostly replaced with ghostly black lights, shrouding the place in violet-tinted darkness.  The only brighter lights that broke through the gloom came from the three wall-mounted televisions—each of them tuned to the same terrible, “B” grade horror film, two strands of orange Halloween twinkle lights that bordered the bar, and one blindingly bright strobe light that blinked in an ominous rhythm from the end of the long restroom hallway.  There was already a small crowd of guests there in a variety of sick and sexy costumes.  They mingled around the food tables set up along the far wall with cocktails in hand, appreciating each other’s outfits and the ambiance around them.

“Hail fellows! Well met!” Clint greeted heartily from behind the bar.

One look at the man’s brown leather vest, dark green, hooded cloak, and archaic looking armguards revealed his guise to be none other than Robin Hood.  It was predictably fitting for the bow-wielding proprietor of a bar named ‘Quiver’.  He poured one last drink and slid it towards a customer before leaving his capable staff to receive his friends properly.

“Welcome fair maiden,” he said to Natasha, taking her hand in his and bowing to place a chivalrous kiss to the tops of her knuckles.

Just then, Kylie appeared by his side, still dressed in the same enigmatic ensemble from earlier that day.

“Oh my gosh, Natasha I love your costume!!” she squealed.

“Thanks,” Nat answered.  “And I… love yours?”

“C’mon, you know who I am,” Kylie assured her.  She was practically beaming as she stood next to Clint.

Natasha considered placating Kylie with a guess but decided her life would be decidedly easier if she didn’t engage the receptionist any more than she had to.  “I’m not gonna lie, Kylie, I have no idea what you’re going for here.”

“I’ll give you a hint, it starts with an ‘M’,” Kylie replied, oblivious to the fact that Natasha was not currently interested in her costume-guessing game.

“Don’t guess ‘Slutty Virgin Mary’, I already tried that,” Bucky whispered in Nat’s ear.

“Uh…Pre-French Revolution Marie Antoinette?” Natasha guessed.

“Who?” Kylie asked, still smiling.

“Uh huh.  Slutty Marie Curie?”

“I only know what one of those words mean,” Kylie answered.

“For fuck’s sake, who did Robin Hood bang?” Clint interrupted, offering his own clue.

“You’re slutty Little John?” Bucky asked.

Natasha laughed so hard she was pretty sure she peed a little.

“No sillies, I’m Maid Marian,” Kylie stated, as though she was the smart one and they were the imbeciles.

“Hopefully Slutty Maid Marian,” Clint corrected.  Kylie giggled earnestly.  “I get that Nat is a Slutty Ballerina…”

“Nope, just a ballerina,” Nat interjected as she slipped out of her wool coat and tossed it over the back a nearby chair.  She looked down and groaned in exasperation as the entirety of her pale pink outfit now radiated like a neon sign in the surrounding glow of the black light bulbs.  “So much for being subtle,” she sighed.

“… But who are you supposed to be, Buck?” Kylie pressed on.

“You know the movie and/or TV show The Fugitive?  I’m the One-Armed Man.”

“I don’t get it,” Kylie said looking solidly perplexed.

“I have one arm,” Bucky answered, raising his pinned-up black sleeve for emphasis.

“And you’re a fugitive?”

“No, I’m the One-Armed Man that the Fugitive is searching for.”

Kylie put on her warmest, most reassuring smile.  “Don’t be embarrassed Bucky, but I don’t think you know what ‘fugitive’ means.”

“Yeah… it can get confusing,” Bucky said, straight-faced, while Nat and Clint cracked up.  Bucky was so distracted by their laughter that he didn’t notice Steve sidle up next to him until Steve slapped him hard on the ass, which only made everyone laugh even more.  Bucky whipped his head around to see Steve eyeing him with a shit-eating grin.

“Watch yourself, Rogers.  Slapping the wrong ass is how I lost my arm, ya know,” Bucky teased.

“Well it’s a good thing I hit the right one then, isn’t it?” Steve asked, nearly forgetting that he and Bucky weren’t the only two people in the room.

“Can we please stop talking about Barnes’ ass now?” Clint asked as he collected himself.  “Who’re you supposed to be anyway, Cap?”

Steve was dressed in his typical Steve-on-a-date outfit.

“Oh me?  I’m the Fugitive, from movie and/or TV’s The Fugitive.  I’m looking for Bucky, because he’s the One-Armed Man.”

“Little early in the relationship to be doing the whole ‘matchy couples thing’, isn’t it?” Clint chided.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Nat barked incredulously, her hands gesturing to Robin Hood and His Lady Fair.

Clint immediately realized his strategic error and began to backtrack on his use of the word “relationship”, but it was pretty evident that the Steve/Bucky Fugitive talk had left Kylie profoundly confused, so much so that she missed the subsequent relationship talk.  “Good point,” he admitted quietly.  “Ixnay on the Elationship-Ray.”

“Where’s Sam?” Nat asked, before adding “Cause Bucky wanted to know.”

“He’s getting drinks,” Steve said.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Sam announced joyfully, appearing as if by magic at the sound of his name.  He was wearing a tight, medium-length ‘fro wig, a large golden championship belt, red white and blue trunks, white knee socks with white high-top sneakers, and in lieu of a shirt he had boxing gloves tied together and draped around his neck.  He handed one beer to Natasha and kept the other one for himself.

“What about the rest of us?” Steve asked.

“That’s a good question, what about the rest of you?” Sam said, his trademark playfulness turned up to 11.  “I don’t see no concrete blocks on your feet.”

“You’re supposed to be Rocky, right?” Bucky asked, more sure of his question than he should have been.

“What?!?!  Rocky my ass.  That chump ain’t got no skill.  The man is slow.  He’s just a punching bag in boxing trunks.”

“So… you’re Black Rocky?” Bucky offered.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now, son?” Sam yelled.

“Slutty Black Rocky?” Kylie asked, poking Sam in his rock-hard chest where a shirt should have been.

“I am Apollo Creed!” Sam declared.  “I’m the best there is, was, and ever will be.  I am THE CHAMPEEN!”

“Heh, Black Rocky doesn’t know how to pronounce ‘champion’,” Clint said.

“Hold my beer so I can punch this honkey in the face,” said Sam, as he pretended to give his beer to Steve and take a step at Clint.

“Whoa, easy Champ,” Bucky said.  “Don’t ‘pity the fool’ just yet.”

“Jesus Christ, Barnes, are you for real?” Natasha really did punch him, without handing off or spilling her beer.  “’Pity the fool’ is Mr. T.  Not Apollo Creed.”

“You’re going to do so many damn sit-ups in our next session you’ll know what the last number in infinity is,” Sam threatened.

“It wasn’t me, it was the One-Armed Man?” Bucky offered sheepishly, to the amusement of everyone but Kylie.

“My head is starting to hurt,” she sighed.

Clint held his arm out to the blonde in obvious invitation to escort her to the bar, “Come with me, milady.  I have just the thing to cure what ails you.”  Kylie grinned and blushed, gladly linking her arm with Clint’s.  He gestured with a wave to the rest of the crew.

“Come on you dirty scoundrels,” he said conspiratorially.  “The first round is on the house.”

The gathered friends all hooted and hollered in honor of their happy host, following excitedly behind him to take him up on his offer.

***

By ten o’clock, the place was packed.  Despite the fact that Clint had propped the front door open, the hot, thick, cloying air still settled like a fog, smelling of booze and body odor and too much perfume.  DJ “Starlord” had just started his first set, encouraging the hoard of tipsy, costumed revelers to bump and grind together in the intimately crowded space.

Bucky and Nat had staked their claim at the dartboards early in the evening and were in the midst of a cutthroat tie-break match while Sam and Steve stayed by the bar, enjoying the drinks and exceptionally good people watching.  They’d been swapping stories about overzealous clients when one of Steve’s most enthusiastic regulars approached.

“Hey guys!” Sharon called with a smile and a wave.  Every man in the place had an eye on the buxom blonde with the full, round tits and perfectly toned ass as she weaved her way confidently through the crowd.  It was a wonder she didn’t trip over a lolling tongue or two as even the other ladies in the room seemed to stop in their tracks to fully appreciate the sight of an unfairly attractive woman in a ridiculously tight and tiny cheerleader costume.

“Wow!” Steve blurted when she’d finally found her to way to her trainer.  “You look incredible!” he added, genuinely impressed by the amazingly fit body he’d personally had a hand in sculpting.

“Damn, girl!” Sam said with an appreciative whistle.  “You must work out,” he added cheekily.

Sharon smirked, took a step closer to Steve and casually wound her arm around his waist.  “Why, yes I do.  With the best damn trainer in the business.”

“I think you mean the _second_ best in the business,” Sam teased.  “I mean, dude does work for me.  Me!  That makes me the boss!”

They all laughed together before she turned her attention solely towards Steve.

“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked, coyly blinking her long lashes.  “To thank you for helping me to achieve my goals.”

Steve held up the mostly full beer in his hand.  “I’m good, thanks.  And there’s no need to thank me.  You did all the hard work,” he said gesturing towards her.

“Buy me a drink then,” she said with a predatory smirk, crowding even closer to Steve.

Suddenly feeling like an unwanted third wheel, Sam tossed back the rest of his beer and left the empty bottle on the bar.  “I’m gonna hit the head.  Save my seat?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it nice n’ warm,” Sharon practically purred as she slid onto the vacated stool, her eyes fixed on Steve as she uttered every word.

Steve cleared his throat and waved Clint over to order Sharon a drink.  The barkeep’s eyes roamed with shameless appreciation over the blonde’s mostly bare body.

“What’s your poison, fair maiden?” he asked with a practiced, flirty smile.

“Hmmm…” she replied eyeing the drink specials written on the wall.

“How about a Vampire’s Kiss?” she answered as she turned her full attention to Steve once more.  “I love it when a guy nibbles on my neck,” she added, lilting her head to the side to expose the long, pale column of her throat.

Steve let his eyes trail down along the line of her neck to her full, rounded breasts that were barely contained by the small pieces of fabric that comprised her costume top.  She really was a specimen.

“One Vampire’s Kiss for the lady,” Clint announced as he slid the red sugar-rimmed martini glass over to Sharon.

“Thanks, Robin,” she said with a wink before licking the rim of the glass and taking a sip.  “It’s to die for.”

Steve chuckled at her play on words and turned towards the crowd, searching for familiar faces.

So… you come here alone?” he asked in a curious, friendly tone.

“Um, yeah,” she answered a little hesitantly before taking a bigger gulp of her cocktail.  She turned to stare at the sea of characters before them swaying indecently to the music.

“I was kinda hoping I wouldn’t leave that way, though,” she added, reaching down to place one perfectly manicured hand on Steve’s thick thigh.  Her eyes flicked to his, looking for some clear sign of reciprocal want.

Steve swallowed loudly, staring down at his lap.

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked hopefully, inching her hand further up his leg.

Steve shot a nervous look at Clint.  The bartender just shook his head in envious disgust.  “Fucking Rogers,” he huffed under his breath as he shook a dirty martini.  Steve peeled a piece of his beer bottle label away and looked at her through the long fans of his eyelashes sheepishly.

“You’re gorgeous and I'm flattered.  But, how could I possibly yell at you to do more push-ups once you've seen me naked?" he said with an innocent smile.

Sharon laughed and took another long sip of her drink, slowly licking the red sugar from the corners of her mouth.

“Actually, I think I might enjoy it more when you yell at me _after_ I’ve seen you naked.  You could dangle your big carrot in front of me as motivation,” she teased, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

Steve chuckled and shook his head.  Apparently she wasn’t easily dissuaded.  He was just about to launch into the whole “I don’t like to get involved with my clients” spiel he’d been forced to use on more than one occasion since he started his career as a trainer/therapist when Bucky suddenly approached them.  Steve straightened up, smiling brightly as he watched Bucky stalking towards them.

“Hey Buck, have you met- ” he started.  His words were suddenly halted as Bucky ignored Steve’s attempted introduction and leaned in to capture his lips in a kiss.  Steve grunted in surprise before instinctively moving to kiss him back.  Bucky took another step closer, wedging himself between Steve’s thighs and forcing Sharon to awkwardly slip her hand away.  Bucky curled his fingers around the back of Steve’s neck, possessively pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, licking into Steve’s willing mouth and unequivocally staking his claim.

Sharon watched rapt as the two stunning men made out hotly beside her.

“Wow,” she said sounding as breathless as the two of them felt.  She took one last, large gulp to finish her drink.

“Uhhhh… Okay.  I can work with this,” she said as though she were giving herself a pep talk.

Bucky pulled back from Steve placing one last chaste kiss on his soft, plush lips.  He smiled at the adorably dazed expression on Steve’s lightly flushed face and the hungry look in his darkened, blue eyes that were clearly fixed on Bucky alone.  The former sergeant turned to Sharon as he reached down to lace his fingers together with Steve’s.

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled the still-stunned blond to his feet.  “I can’t,” he added with a shrug before leading Steve away from the bar and onto the makeshift dancefloor.

Steve looked back over his shoulder at his client apologetically as he was pulled along into the throng.  He chuckled under his breath as he watched the vultures descend immediately following his exit.  Two attractive guys flanked her on either side and began to vie for the beauty’s attention.  She smirked mischievously at each of her eager admirers.  She wouldn’t be lamenting Steve for long, if at all.

Bucky stopped in the middle of the floor, turned around and dropped Steve's hand so he could rest it on the blond's hip instead.  He leaned in close to speak by Steve’s ear hoping to be heard over the din of the music.

“Sorry ‘bout that.  I, uh… I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized, looking down at their feet with obvious embarrassment.

Steve leaned in and placed a soft kiss at the juncture of Bucky’s shoulder and chuckled by his ear.

“You did me a favor.  Saved me from having to flat out refuse her.  That would’ve been a terrible way to lose a steady client.  How can I ever repay you?” Steve rumbled before sucking Bucky’s earlobe into his mouth.

“I can think of a few ways,” Bucky replied with a moan as he pulled the blond impossibly closer, slotting his thigh between Steve’s and rolling their bodies together to the rhythm of the music.

***

Clint turned the corner to go down the hallway to the bathrooms and was met with the sight of Sam and Natasha drunkenly making out.  They looked like two slobbering bulldogs with head colds trying to lick peanut butter off each other’s faces.  As far as foreplay went, it was decidedly unsexy, though clearly it was working for them.  Clint was so disgusted by the sounds alone they were making that he’d barely be able to jerk off over it later.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he snapped.  “What the hell is it with you people and this hallway?  Every time you guys come here someone’s trying to tongue-fuck someone else in here.”

“Go away Clint!” Natasha attempted to yell, but between the alcohol sabotaging her motor skills and her mouth being all but glued to Sam’s face it sounded more like “Gahhhhayclee!”

“Yhhhhhhh,” Sam mumbled in agreement.

“You two are a fucking mess,” said Clint, astutely surmising the situation before stalking off to find Steve and Bucky.

“Your friends are a fucking mess,” he told the gyrating couple once he’d found them on the dance floor.

The One-Armed Man and the Fugitive didn’t stop swaying their entangled bodies as they both shouted “What?” over the music.

“Your friends, Black Rocky and Booze Hound Barbie, are shit-faced and making out like two people who are about ten minutes away from vomiting all over each other.  And, by extension, vomiting all over my classy establishment.  I don’t want to be balls deep in Kylie later while reeking of someone else’s puke I had to clean up!”

“That seems a bit racially insensitive,” Steve noted.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Clint replied.  “Trust me, no one’s more down with the swirl than me.  But not when it involves me cleaning up nasty booze puke.”

Bucky stopped dancing.  “The responsible thing to do would be to get them home,” he said.

“But if we’re responsible, how will I get to pound my cock into you later?” Steve asked playfully.

“Sweet sunny fuck!” Clint yelled.  “Between the four of you, you’re really trying to kill my Kylie boner.”

“Oh, we should get Kylie to take care of them,” Bucky suggested.

Then it was Steve’s turn to be rational.  “Sam will kill all of us once he sobers up and realizes we left him and Natasha a drunken mess with Kylie.  The unprofessionalism of it would destroy his soul.”

“You’re right, and I hate it,” Bucky agreed with a sigh.

“C’mon, I’ll wrangle Sam and you get Natasha,” said Steve.

The mission was no easy task.  Sam and Natasha had lost any degree of composure or self-control.  They were like two teenagers who drank for the first time and thought if a few shots were good an entire bottle would be better.  Getting them apart was more like “detaching” than “separating”.

“Clint, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky asked as he finally was able to get Natasha enough off of Sam that he could corral her.

“Taking video,” he said, his eyes fixed on the phone he was holding up.  “Nat’s gonna wanna see this tomorrow.”

“No she’s not,” said Bucky, Natasha squirming out of his grasp.

“I know, that’s why it’s awesome,” Clint replied.

“C’mon Champ,” Steve said, once Bucky had Natasha under control.

“Dat’s riiiiiiiiii… Ima Champ-PEEN,” Sam slurred.  He repeated it like a mantra as Steve led him through the pub and out the front door.

“Where’s a Steve taking the Sam?” Natasha asked once they were outside and she spotted Steve helping Sam into a cab.

“He’s going to take Sam home and make sure he doesn’t choke to death on his own vomit,” Bucky answered.  “And I’m going to do the same to you.”

“He can’t take a Sam!” she yelled.  “I love him!”  And then she began sobbing giant drunken crocodile tears.

“Ya hear that!” Sam yelled back, sticking his head out of the cab window.  “She loves me!  Ima Champ-PEEN o’ LOVE!”

“He’s the champion, Buck,” Natasha blurted in between sobs.  “You took away the champion.”

“I know, sweetie,” he said.  “But the champ’s gotta go home and rest up.  He has a title bout with a hangover tomorrow and the odds aren’t good.”

“We would have such awesome little macchiato babies,” whined Natasha.

“She’s gonna shit a macchiato brick when she sees this,” Clint said, still filming.  “This is the best non-sexual night of my life!”

“Thanks, Zapruder,” said Bucky sarcastically.  Another cab pulled up and he poured Natasha inside.

Kylie came outside as Bucky was climbing in.  “Is Nat okay?” she asked.

“Eh, she’ll be fine,” Clint assured her.  “She said you and me should go back to my place right before she got into the cab.  Maybe make a movie of our own.”

Kylie smiled her usual Kylie smile and waved.  “Bye Bucky!  Bye Natasha!  Hope you feel better!”

“Bye Slutty Medieval Receptionist!” Natasha waved back as the cab sped away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rather than let you wonder when I'll be updating next, I can tell you it probably won't be during the month of November. Like many other authors on this site, I'll be working on a completely original (non-fanfic) piece for NaNoWriMo.
> 
> This story is never far from my mind or my heart and I'll be thinking about it if not actually doing a little bit of writing here and there even while I'm focusing on my other project.
> 
> Also, I did finally get on Tumblr (70SecretKinks there too) though I've no clue how to create a link. Come find me there if you want to chat about this tale, Stucky, or anything else. Cheers!


	11. Call Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a busy November, Bucky and Steve go their separate ways to spend the Thanksgiving holidays with their families. When they get a chance to catch up over the phone, they take matters (i.e., their dicks) into their own hands, fanning the flames of their burgeoning relationship.
> 
> In other words, I wanted to try my hand at writing a scene in which Bucky and Steve have steamy phone sex. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so, so sorry it's taken my twice as long as I thought it would to update this story. The holidays were incredibly hectic (and amazingly fun) and now I'm about to head for a week long vacation in Disney World. BUT, before I head off to Space Mountain, I just had to write and post this chapter. Hope you like it!!

The month of November flew by like a blur.  Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky’s sudden and unwanted separation the night of Clint’s Halloween party proved to be a harbinger of things to come in the days and weeks that followed.  While Bucky wanted nothing more than to spend every waking moment with the beautiful trainer he could feel himself falling head over heels for with every passing day, it just wasn’t in the cards.  Fury had given the budding designer two new, high-profile projects—each of them due before the Thanksgiving holiday and both of them rife with the kinds of complications his boss apparently used to handle for him.  Now, with Bucky’s star on the rise, it fell on his shoulders to navigate the shit storms, put out the fires, and find workable solutions to the litany of problems that seemed to plague him and his team on a daily basis.  It was wrecking his workout regimen and putting a serious damper on his social life.  Most importantly, it was keeping him from seeing Steve.

Steve was equally occupied during the eleventh month of the year.  Only it wasn’t work that demanded his time and attention.  His schedule at the club had actually slowed to a crawl as was usually the case during the big holiday months of November and December when even the most dedicated of gym rats eventually eased up on their training to indulge on cookies and cocktails like the rest of the undisciplined populace.  Just as predictably, they’d be back in full force and vying for equipment along with the inevitable army of newly enrolled club-goers as soon as the New Year’s confetti was swept away, each of them buoyed by new beginnings, resolutions staunch and untested.  Then there’d be a waiting list of clientele trying to book time with Steve but until then, he intended to enjoy the seasonal lull by spending as much time as possible with the sweet, gorgeous, determined vet who fueled his fantasies and had taken hold of his heart.

As luck would have it, three days after Clint’s epic bash, Sarah severely sprained her ankle while performing the entirely ordinary act of stepping out of a cab in front of her building.  While the strong-willed woman insisted that she needed no help from her overprotective only child, Steve brooked no refusal and practically moved into his mother’s place to tend to her needs while she was on the mend.

So, it seemed the universe at large had cruelly conspired to keep Steve and Bucky apart for the majority of the month.  They did manage to spend two blissful Saturday evenings together in which the infatuated lovers lounged on Steve’s magnificent sofa, sharing take-out and catching random glimpses of Rocky III as it played on a continuous loop between long, vigorous bouts of mind-blowing sex.  It was barely enough to slake their desires let alone make up for the lack of contact for a couple clearly caught up in the “honeymoon phase” of their blossoming relationship.  Now, Thanksgiving was upon them and with it a more palpable separation as Bucky headed to his family’s home in Connecticut for the holiday while Steve stayed behind to spend it as he always did with his mother and Tony.

***

Bucky had just stuffed an extra pair of boxers into his rucksack when he heard the knock on his door.  He pulled the bag over his shoulder and bounded towards the door, practically yanking it off its hinges in his excitement to get it open.

“Becks!” he greeted his baby sister with a blindingly happy smile.

“Bear!” she replied with an equally enthusiastic grin before throwing her arms around her brother, nearly squeezing the air of out his lungs.

“God, you look great!” she said, sounding a little more than surprised when she finally loosened her embrace and pushed back enough to study his face.  She gently brushed his long bangs out of his eyes before tucking them lovingly behind his ear.

“What happened to you?” she asked with a wink.

Bucky glanced at his pinned up sleeve.  “I lost my arm in the war,” he replied, deadpan.  “We’ve been over this several times,” he added with a smirk.

Rebecca shoved at his shoulder playfully.  “No you idiot.  Obviously not that.  You just… I don’t know,” she stammered searching for the right word.  “You look… healthier.”

Bucky chuckled, clearly enjoying the show as his sister tried with questionable success to compliment her sibling without inadvertently insulting him at the same time.

“I mean, you’re practically glowing and that shirt looks like it’s about ten seconds from ripping apart at the seams.  So either Nat _finally_ convinced you to join her gym OR you’ve been purposefully shrinking your clothes in the laundry.”

Bucky chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.  “I couldn’t take the constant harassment anymore so I joined up a couple of months ago just to shut her up.”

“Well, clearly she was right to push you,” she said.  “You haven’t looked this buff since ‘05.”

“Thanks… I think?” Bucky answered.

“Speaking of Nat…”  Rebecca scanned the tiny apartment as if she expected the fiery redhead to appear out of nowhere.  “Where is she?  Isn’t she coming with us this year?”

“Nah,” Bucky answered casually as he put down his bag, picked up his keys and slipped on his coat.  “She’s got other plans.”

Rebecca sighed with evident disappointment and looked pointedly at Bucky, waiting for an explanation.  Bucky had no intention of giving up the goods so easily—especially with a two-plus-hour car ride ahead of them.  Rebecca was just ramping up to try and pry it out of him when he was saved by the loud buzzing sound of his phone in his back pocket.  He fished it out, swiped the screen and proceeded to grin like a loon at whatever was there.  He tapped a quick reply with his thumb before slipping the device back into his pocket and attempting to school his features to something a little less than giddy.

“What was that all about?” she asked curiously.  Bucky just shook his head, picked up his bag again and nodded toward the hallway.

“Ready?” he asked, knowing full well that the relentless brunette would launch into a full scale interrogation the moment their seat belts were securely fastened.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” she said with an ornery grin as they made their way out of Bucky’s building and down to her car.

***

Meanwhile, Steve had managed to pull off a kind of Thanksgiving Eve miracle.  He’d somehow managed to convince his stubborn, healing mother to do something he was certain she would never do—let someone else prepare Thanksgiving dinner.  Sure, he’d resorted to using unfair and dubious tactics to achieve said miracle but a win was a win.  Sarah had tried to argue that she was still up to the task of preparing their traditional turkey feast with all of the fixings despite her bum leg when Steve pulled out the irresistible, sad puppy face he’d mastered in his youth to manipulate his otherwise unflappable mother.  She caved fairly quickly on one condition.  She and Steve were to work together as they always did to bake the pumpkin, pecan and apple pies they couldn’t call Thanksgiving without.

The rest of their meal was going to arrive the following day fully cooked, presented and plated by one of Manhattan’s finest restauranteurs courtesy of Tony, of course.  He always spent the holiday with Steve and Sarah anyway and was happy to contribute something beyond his usual case of rare, vintage wine to mark the occasion.  So, with everything they could possibly need covered, Steve gathered up the groceries and ingredients his mom had purchased to prepare their meal and headed to the nearest soup kitchen to donate it all.

Steve texted Bucky from the back of the cab to wish him and his sister safe travels and to request a quick text to let him know that he and Rebecca had arrived safely.  If he happened to mention just how much he already missed the gorgeous brunet and how he wanted nothing more than to be cuddled close together naked in his bed, well he was only telling the truth.

***

Traffic on the I-95 was a nightmare.  Four long, tortuous hours later, Bucky and Becca dragged their sorry asses and their suitcases to the front stoop of the large, classical Victorian house the Barnes family called home.  Bucky’s finger was poised over the doorbell button when the door suddenly swung open.

“My babies!!!” Winifred Barnes wailed, stepping out to wrap one arm around each of her children and pulling them impossibly close to her chest.  “I’m so happy that you’re here!!”  She stepped back to wave them inside, hardly stopping to take a breath between excited questions and exclamations.

“George!  Bucky and Becca are home!!” she yelled up the stairs.

The house smelled delicious already, like cinnamon and pumpkin spice and love.

“How was your trip?  Was the traffic bad?  Did you stop to eat?  Are you hungry?”

Bucky chuckled at his mother’s unbridled enthusiasm and obvious joy at having her two youngest children under the same roof.  Before they had a chance to answer even one of her questions, their father George made his way down the stairs.

“Hey kiddos!” he exclaimed taking a moment to slip past his hovering wife to embrace his son and daughter.  “Thank god you’re finally here.  I thought your mother was going to have an aneurism waiting for you to arrive.”

Winifred bumped her hip into her husband’s, knocking him slightly off balance.  “Exaggerator,” she teased.  George rolled his eyes, snatching their suitcases and hurrying to carry them up to their rooms.

Mrs. Barnes looked stunned with a sudden realization.  “No Natasha?” she asked looking over their shoulders at the closed front door behind them.

“She’s spending the holiday with her _boyfriend_ ,” Rebecca answered with a giggle.

Winifred placed her hand over her heart and sighed happily.  “Sam finally worked up the courage to ask her out?” she asked hopefully.

Bucky blinked with disbelief.  “How’d you know?” he asked.

“You boys are so blind sometimes,” she chuckled as she turned to head towards the kitchen.  “Natasha’s been carrying a torch for that man ever since he helped her learn to walk again.  I’m surprised it took this long for him to figure it out.”

Bucky just shook his head still in awe of his mother’s intuition and deductive reasoning.

“Well, we can call her tomorrow while were cooking to wish her a happy day and tell her that we miss her,” Winifred said turning the oven light on and peering through the thick glass window to check on her pies.  “Maybe she’ll come for Christmas?  She can bring Sam with her.  I can hardly wait to meet him!”

Bucky leaned against one of the kitchen counters and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Um, yeah.  About that…”

Winifred stood up, her posture rigid before turning on her heel.  “About what?”

“Bucky plans to spend Christmas in New York.  With _his_ boyfriend,” Rebecca gushed.

Winifred turned to look at her son, eyes wide and mouth agape.  Bucky sank back against the kitchen counter and stared down at his shoes, his cheeks flushing rosy red.

“What?!?” his mother suddenly squealed.

“Well, uh… I’m not sure if I can really call him my boyfriend just yet,” he stammered, scratching nervously at the nape of his neck.  “But, yeah… we um, talked about spending Christmas together.  I mean if you don’t—”

Bucky didn’t have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence before his mother had him wrapped up in a crushing bear hug.  “Oh honey,” she cooed merrily in his ear.  “I’m so happy for you!”  She kissed the side of his head before pulling back, a bright smile tugging up her lips and the faintest hint of tears welling in her eyes.  She fanned herself with an oven mitt, rolled her eyes and laughed at her own emotional outburst.

“I’m ridiculous.  I know.  But I really can’t help it!” she tried to explain.  “When you’re happy, I’m happy, you know?”  Bucky just nodded, smiling back at his wonderful mother.

Winifred sniffled and opened the over door to pull out the holiday pastries.  “I want to hear all about him sweetheart but you might as well wait until your other sisters get here so you don’t have to repeat yourself,” she said sweetly as she placed each of two perfect looking pumpkin pies on the cooling racks she’d set out.  “But,” she said skillfully closing the oven door with her foot.  “I do need to at least know the name of the young man that has you looking so positively smitten.”

Bucky smiled shyly again before answering his expectant mother.  “It’s Steve,” he said affectionately.  “Steve Rogers.”

***

“Steven Grant Rogers!” Sarah called from the dining room, “You’d better not be touching those pies!”

Steve stood dumbfounded in the kitchen, the tiny chunk of crust he’d broken off the edge of the pie still pinched lightly between his fingers.  He popped the morsel into his mouth and hummed in appreciation of the flaky, buttery perfection.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Ma,” he answered around the delectable bite, moving to turn the plate conspicuously around in an attempt to hide the evidence of his indiscretion.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar, Rogers?” he heard Tony ask as his friend entered the kitchen, casually pulling an even larger piece of crust from the other, heretofore untainted pie to sample himself.

“Yeah, you’ve might’ve mentioned that to me a time or two,” Steve replied with a smirk before walking over to embrace his pseudo-brother in a big bear hug.

“That,” Steve said as he pointed to the obvious flaw in the otherwise perfect pastry, “is going to be a helluvalot harder to hide.”

“Mom!” Tony cried out, “Steve’s snitching crust again!!”

“Why you little…” Steve gritted through a grin before darting quickly after the wisely fleeing billionaire.

Steve took two long strides into the living room before diving over the top of the sofa with his arms extended in front of him like a wide receiver grasping for the game-winning touchdown at the edge of the endzone.  He just managed to grasp Tony by the hem of his cashmere sweater, yanking the shorter man down to the ground and quickly pinning him to the floor between his powerful thighs.  The inventor squirmed and howled in protest as Steve tickled and prodded him until he could barely breathe.

“Get off of me ya big ox!” Tony managed between gasping breaths and uncontrollable laughter.  “Save it for your soldier boy toy!”

Steve halted his assault and glared down at Tony.  “He’s not my boy—” he started when he noticed Sarah in his peripheral vision, watching amusedly from her perch on the adjacent armchair.  She had an eyebrow raised at her only son as she took a small sip from her champagne flute.

“Something you’d like to tell me, Steven?” she asked with a smirk.

Steve huffed a loud sigh and moved off of Tony to sit on the floor.  Just then he was graciously saved from having to answer by the caterer who’d come to announce that dinner was served.

***

Bucky had never been center stage at a press conference before, but he assumed it must be a lot like being peppered with questions by his sisters and mother over post-Thanksgiving pie.  He half expected them to put away their forks and plates and get out pens and notepads.  Maybe he could get them fedoras with little tags that said “Press” affixed to the brims.

“So, Becks said Steve was in the service too?” his oldest sister Sadie asked as she poured a bit more cream into her cup of coffee.

Bucky chewed the bite of pie he’d just taken and nodded as he swallowed.

“Yeah.  Two tours,” Bucky answered with a shrug.  “Honorable discharge.”

“Why’d he get out?” Sadie’s husband Nathan asked as he scooped a bit of whipped cream onto his spoon to feed to their one year old daughter, Stacy.

“Um…” Bucky hesitated, realizing he’d never asked the former Captain why he’d opted to leave a promising career in the military behind in favor of a simple civilian life.

“I don’t really know,” he admitted as he pushed his empty dessert plate aside and slumped down in his chair with a yawn.  His post-feast food coma coming on fast.

“Who does he look like?” his other sister Mary chimed in.

“Huh?” Bucky asked confusedly.  He’d already given them the basics: 6’2”, blond hair, blue-eyes, nice smile, built like brick shithouse…

“I mean, if you had to compare him to someone famous.  Who does he look like?”

Bucky rolled his eyes to the ceiling in thought.  “I dunno Mare… maybe a little like that actor Chris Evans?”

“Holy shit!” Becca mumbled around a mouthful of pie.  “You didn’t say he was _that_ hot!”

His other sisters pulled out their phones to Google search images of the actor, their eyes widening with impressed admiration as they perused the large and varied collection of posed and paparazzi shots.

Just then, Bucky’s own phone vibrated in his pocket.  He kept his face completely neutral despite his absolute elation at seeing Steve’s name on the incoming call screen, channeling his years of military training and discipline to break away without suspicion.

“Sorry,” he said, standing from his chair with an air of disappointment.  “I gotta take this,” he added as he made a hasty retreat to his bedroom upstairs.  As soon as he crossed the threshold and locked the door behind him (old habits die hard), he swiped the screen and answered the call.

“Hey Steve!  Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Buck!” Steve answered with equal enthusiasm.

“God, I miss you,” Bucky gushed before his brain had a chance to register just how desperate he might’ve sounded.

“I miss you too,” Steve replied with what an amused huff of laughter.  “How’s the family?”

“Good,” Bucky answered as he settled down on top of his old double bed.  “Driving me crazy with questions about you right before you called, actually.”

“Yeah?” Steve chuckled.  “I faced the Inquisition about you over dinner too.  Needless to say, my mom wants to meet you.  Like now.”

Bucky blushed and bit his lip.  “Yeah, well don’t be surprised if a bunch of Barnes women suddenly show up in the club lookin’ for you.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Steve said as he stretched out on his sofa.  “I’ll keep a wary eye open.”

“Oh trust me,” Bucky teased.  “You’ll hear ‘em long before you see ‘em.”

“Sounds like fun,” Steve replied with a smile in his voice.

“I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘fun’,” Bucky chuckled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Steve said, his voice dropping suddenly lower.  “We seem to enjoy a lot of the same… activities, as it were.”

“Hmmm… I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Steve,” Bucky answered coyly.

“Oh no?” Steve flirted back.  “I’d be happy to explain it to you if you’d like.”

“Do tell,” Bucky taunted.  “Actually, wait a minute.  Hold that thought,” he added as he dropped his phone down on the mattress and reached for his Bluetooth earpiece on the nearby nightstand.  He turned it on and nestled it in his ear before propping his pillows against the headboard.

“Steve?  You still with me?”

“Always,” Steve answered sweetly.

It was just one word that Bucky was sure the other man had uttered without much thought but it still managed to momentarily take his breath away.  He took a deep breath and tried to tamp down the butterflies that were now swirling in his belly.

“Sorry,” he grunted as he scooted back against the headboard to settle in.  “Was just putting in my earbud.”

“No problem,” Steve answered.  “I was just getting more comfortable myself.”

“You still at your mom’s?” Bucky asked.

“No.  After dessert, Tony had to leave so I just decided to take off too.  My mom’s still recovering and needs to rest.  She wouldn’t have done that if I had stayed, ya know?”

Bucky hummed in the affirmative.

“Besides,” Steve continued, “I was really looking forward to talkin’ with you without being under a microscope.  I mean, she wouldn’t eavesdrop or anything but still…”

“I know what you mean,” Bucky answered.  “I tried to act like I was taking an important business call when you rang but my sisters are smarter than that.  I’m sure they’re waiting patiently to pounce as soon as they see me.”

“Me too,” Steve replied.

“Sorry?” Bucky asked

“I’m waiting.  To pounce on you,” Steve said seductively.  “But it’s getting harder every day.”

“Me too,” Bucky said as he trailed his hand down his torso towards his rapidly thickening cock.  He cupped his hand over his crotch and gave a little squeeze.  “In fact, I’m pretty fuckin’ hard right now just from listening to your voice.”

“Mmmm,” Steve hummed as reached down to massage his semi-hard dick through the thick fabric of his khaki pants.  “I’m right there with you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked.  “That gorgeous dick of yours gettin’ nice and hard for me?”

Steve exhaled loudly as he applied more pressure with the heel of his hand.  “It is now.”

“Are you touchin’ yourself, Stevie?” Bucky asked as he worked to undo the button and zipper fly of his jeans.

“Kinda,” Steve answered.

Bucky chuckled as began the somewhat laborious process of shimmying his pants down his thighs.  “I know you can do better than that,” he grunted, working his waistband over his ass.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Uh,” Bucky strained as he lifted his ass off the mattress.  “Taking my pants off so I can enjoy jerking off to the sound of your velvety voice while I imagine kissing your soft, sweet lips, looking into your beautiful blue eyes, and mapping every inch of your incredibly cut body with my tongue until I’m cumming all over my fist in the same room I used to build model airplanes, play Sega Dreamcast, and study for math tests in.”

“Defiling your childhood sanctuary,” Steve chided.  “Fuck, that’s hot.  Tell me what you’re doing,” Steve pleaded breathily as he worked his own pants open eagerly.

Bucky pushed the bottom of his black thermal shirt up to rest on his ribs before sliding his jeans and boxers down to his knees.  “I just got my pants down,” he answered as he scooted back to rest against the headboard, his long legs splayed as wide as he could manage on top of the faded, navy blue comforter.

Bucky wrapped his fingers around his thick, hard shaft and started to stroke himself slowly up and down.  “I’m stroking my cock.  Nice and slow for you, baby.”  Bucky hummed as he tightened his grip and twisted his hand right below the ridge of his reddened cockhead.

Steve swallow thickly as he listened intently to the soft rustling noises and quiet moans Bucky made as he pleasured himself.

“More,” Steve huffed as pulled the rest of his clothing off.  He sank back down, completely naked onto the soft, warm sofa cushions.

“I’m playing with the head now,” Bucky said with a strained voice.  “Feels so good.  I’m teasing the slit with my thumb and wishing like hell it was your tongue instead.  Christ, you look like a goddamn filthy angel when you’re giving me head.”  Bucky thrust up into his fist and continued.  “The way your perfect, pink lips stretch around my shaft… uh… ah… the way your long, thick eyelashes get damp with tears when the tip of my cock prods the back of your throat.”

“Fuck,” Steve huffed as he took himself in hand and began to stroke his thick, full shaft.

“Shit, Steve,” Bucky breathed heavily.  “Just hearing you curse like that is bringing pearls of precum to the surface.”

“I’d lap it up like a kitten drinking cream if I was there with you,” Steve said insistently as he wedged his phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could reach down with his now free hand to fondle his heavy balls.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut tight and let the image of Steve flicking his tongue over his glistening head like a sinful feline infest his brain.  The pace of his stroking unconsciously increased.

“You gonna take your shirt off?” Steve asked.  “Expose those nice, firm pecs you’ve been workin’ so hard on?”

“That’d require lettin’ go of my dick,” Bucky retorted with a hiss.  “’Sides, my pecs are nothing next to your glorious tits.”

Steve was glad that Bucky couldn’t see the incredulous blush that he knew was now staining his cheeks.  How he could feel self-conscious about _anything_ when he was already spread out naked, having hot phone sex and rubbing one out?  Ridiculous.

“You really like ‘em?” Steve asked as he moved one hand away from his balls, trailing it up to his chest.  He rubbed and pinched at his hardened nipples as he pumped his cock, moaning wantonly into the phone.

“Does Tony spend too much time grooming?” Bucky asked as he loosened his grip to tease himself with only his fingertips.

“You wanna fuck ‘em?” Steve asked huskily.

“Who?  Tony?!” Bucky barked as he stilled his hand.  Steve couldn’t stop the laughter that burst from his mouth.

“No!” he chortled.  “My…” Steve hesitated for a moment before forcing the words out in a near whisper.  “My… ‘tits’.”

Bucky took a hold of himself hard to stop himself from cumming on the spot at the mere suggestion.

“You’d let me do that?” he asked through gasping breaths.

“’Course,” Steve answered.  “I mean, unless you don’t want to because of my scar—”

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be with you again,” Bucky cut Steve off.  “I’m gonna slick up my cock and glide it nice ‘n slow between your perfect tits.  Rock back and forth until the tip is touching your lips.”  Bucky moaned and licked his lips as he twisted and tugged on his now drooling dick.  “You gonna kiss it, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve breathed, letting his head fall back against the cushions as he listened to Bucky.  His mind painted a vivid picture of the brunet straddling his chest, thrusting his dick with lustful abandon through the valley he’d create by flexing his strong, hard pecs around the other man’s shaft.  Steve’s hands anchored softly around Bucky’s hips, holding him steady to help keep him balanced.

“I’ll kiss it and lick it and suck on that smooth, thick, swollen head like it’s a fucking popsicle ‘til you’re cumming all over my lips…mmm … my chin… uh… my tongue.”

Bucky felt his orgasm start to pool quickly in his groin as he let his fist fly over his sensitive flesh.

“Oh shit… Steve I’m gettin’ close.”

“Me too,” Steve answered between panting breaths.  “God, I’d give anything to fuck you right now,” he confessed desperately.

“I want that too. Real bad,” Bucky answered.  “Wanna feel you deep inside of me,” he panted.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, his voice completely razed with pleasure as he thrust into his hand at a fevered pace.  “My dick’s so fuckin’ hard right now, I can feel it pulsing in my hand.  Damn, I wish you could see it, Buck.  The tip’s so fucking primed and full, it’s almost purple.”

“Ngghh, I love purple!” Bucky moaned incoherently as he stared with hazy eyes at the fullness of his own cock, working it over with quick, smooth pulls.

Steve replied with a clipped chorus of ‘uh’s’, ‘ah’s’, and panted breaths as he desperately chased his imminent release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Bucky asked as he felt his balls draw tight.  “’Cause I’m gonna cum for you.  Right.  Now.”

The words had barely crossed the brunet’s lips before he was wracked with the incredible force of his orgasm.  He shuddered and choked as he watched rope after rope of hot, white cum erupt from his swollen tip and onto his heaving abdomen.

“Fuck!” Steve growled as he listened to the breathless sounds that Bucky was making as he rode the waves of his climax.  He closed his eyes, tightened his grip, and pictured his lover’s beautiful face—his perfect features furrowed in the throes of passion.  And that was it.

“I’m cumming!” Steve husked with a moan, spilling hotly over his fist.  He milked his cock with slow, measured strokes, basking in the feelings of white, hot ecstasy and bone-deep relief.

Bucky eased down the bed, melting pliantly into the mattress and fighting the urge to just drift off to sleep.  He listened to Steve’s heavy breathing and felt a sudden pang of sadness at their separation.  He wanted nothing more in that very moment than to be wrapped up in the trainer’s strong embrace, exchanging long, languid kisses as they both came back to Earth.

Just as he was about to ask Steve how he was feeling, he heard the floor boards creak in the hall outside of his room.  Bucky wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or commit murder.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked through a muffled yawn.

“Hold on a sec,” Bucky replied, sounding far more annoyed than a man who’d just climaxed should.

Three seconds later came a knock on the door.

“You okay in there, Bear?” Becca asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“’M fine.”

Apparently his sister wasn’t so easily convinced.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.  Be down in a minute.”

“What are you doing in there anyway?  You’ve been gone forever,” she pushed.

Bucky took a deep breath, and looked down at the mess of cum cooling on his stomach.

“I swear to God, Becks,” he warned, “If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to tell you.”

Bucky bit his lip to stop the laughter that was bubbling in his chest as he waited for the weight of his words to finally sink in.  Listening to Steve cackle adorably on the other end of the line from the privacy of his amazing apartment was definitely not helping him maintain his composure.

“Oh!  Shit!” Becca all but shrieked.  “Shit! Shit! Shit!  Leaving now!  Sorry!”  Her voice trailed off as she fled away down the hall as fast as her mortified feet could carry her.

Bucky burst out laughing as soon as he was certain that the coast was clear.

“Becca always has _the_ worst timing,” he chortled

He could practically hear the smile in Steve’s voice when he replied.  “Actually I’d say her timing was perfect.  A few minutes earlier and she might’ve caught you blowing your load.”

“That’s true,” Bucky conceded.

“Would’ve been kinda hot,” Steve added cheekily.

“Weirdo,” Bucky said with a laugh as he grabbed some tissues from the nightstand box and began to clean himself up.

“And to think—all those oblivious, doe-eyed, horned-up housewives you train at the club think you’re _sooooo_ sweet and innocent.” Bucky chortled.  “Little do they know you—”

“Love to fuck you up the ass?”  Steve interrupted.

Bucky barked out a laugh of surprise.  “Punk.  Ya know, I didn’t believe Tony when he tried to convince me that you’re a complete menace but I’m starting to see his point now.”

“The guy is technically a genius,” Steve teased.  “ _Usually_ knows what he’s talking about.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Speaking of Tony,” Steve said as he headed towards the bathroom to wash his hands.  “He told me they’re close to having your arm ready?”

“Yeah.  I have one more fitting when I get back.  Then I guess I’ll get to wear it home and really try it out.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah. I am.  A little nervous to be honest but I can’t wait to see what I can do with it.”

“That makes two of us,” Steve said suggestively.

“Down, boy,” Bucky chuckled.  “Ask Tony about the can of Coke he ‘offered’ me the last time we were together.  Might make you rethink wanting me to handle anything delicate right away.”

Bucky’s phone vibrated on the bed beside him.  He picked it up to read the text that Rebecca had sent him from the floor below him.

**_Hurry up and finish your ‘business’ up there!  We’re going to see a movie.”_ **

Bucky dropped the phone again and ran his fingers through his hair with sigh.

“I gotta go.  Heading out to see a movie with my sisters.”

“Okay,” Steve answered as he turned his shower on.  “Have a good time with your family.”

“Thanks, Stevie.  What are you going to do?”

“First I’m going to take a long, hot shower and then I think I’m going to get my sketch pad out and draw for awhile.  Been working on a piece for the last few weeks that I might actually finish tonight.”

“Alright, well… have a good evening.  See you in a few?”

“Can’t wait,” Steve answered.

“Me too.  Okay.  Night, Steve.”

“Night, Buck.”

Bucky was about to end the call when Steve called out, “Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Send me a selfie?  I uh… I miss your face.”

Bucky nearly swooned.  “Sure,” he replied quietly.  “But only if I get one in return.  I can’t wait to make my sisters jealous.”

Steve chuckled warmly.  “You got it.”

Becca called loudly for her brother from the safety of the bottom of the stairs, prompting the two men to say their final ‘goodbyes’.  Each of them feeling completely sated, entirely sleepy, and maybe, just a little more in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already started the next chapter and am hoping to post it sooner that the last one. Appreciate your patience and as usual, I live for your comments. So if you like this fic, please let me know. Nothing is more motivating than knowing that your work is anticipated and appreciated.
> 
> Hope you had a lovely holiday season and best wishes for a happy, healthy, and prosperous 2016! Cheers!


	12. The Only Present You’re Guaranteed Will Never Ever Be Received with the Words, ‘Oh, You Shouldn’t Have!’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky and Natasha catch up after the holidays and Tony unveils the magnificence of his genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologize for how long long it's taken to update but I've come to the realization that it always takes me far longer than I'd like or intend. Sorry! Thanks for your patience and for sticking with this story!

The first time Bucky sees Steve following Thanksgiving break is in the locker room at the club.  He’d just finished an unusually grueling workout with Sam and was fighting against his screaming muscles to strip down and hit the showers.  He kicked off the last of his clothes and picked up his bath towel, casually holding it to cover his junk as he strode towards the stalls, when Steve unexpectedly rounded the bend.  He’d obviously just come from the showers himself.  Rivulets of water clung to his clean, chiseled frame, slowly dripping down from his darkened, flaxen hair, over his perfectly sculpted pecs and down the delicious planes of muscle that formed the impressive “V” cut Bucky had already committed to memory, having slowly mapped it with his mouth.  He could practically smell the distinctive scent of his soap and taste the salt of his skin just by looking at him.  The towel Steve had slung around his waist sat loose and low on his hips, the split where the ends met barely concealing the ample package tucked underneath.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered under his breath as he drank in the sight of him, feeling his cock twitch involuntarily beneath the bunched towel in his hand.  It’d been far too many days since he’d last laid eyes on the gorgeous blond.  He felt like a parched man in the desert who’d just stumbled upon an oasis filled with Icee machines.  He was desperate to touch and taste every inch of golden, exposed skin before him and quench his ravenous thirst.

Steve froze in his tracks, looking equally stunned to see Bucky standing there all but naked too, skin glistening with sweat and locks of hair clinging hotly to his face.  The trainer cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Bucky’s long enough to scan the surprisingly vacant locker room.  Realizing that they were momentarily alone, he surged forward and took hold of Bucky by the waist as he crashed his lips urgently to the surprised brunet’s mouth.  Bucky tried to suppress the moan that hummed against Steve’s probing tongue as his lover pressed him back into the closest bank of lockers, caging him in with the breadth of his body just as Bucky had imagined the very first time he jerked off to the mere thought of Steve Rogers.

Bucky dropped his towel to the floor in favor of reaching under Steve’s, wrapping his fingers deftly around the blond’s long, thick shaft while they continued to devour each other with urgent, hungry kisses.  Steve quickly returned the favor, taking Bucky’s rock hard dick in hand and thumbing over the silky smooth head.  He’d just started to stroke him in earnest when they were disturbed by the sound of voices approaching.

“Shit!” Bucky cursed quietly as Steve backed away, working quickly to secure the abandoned towel around Bucky’s waist before readjusting his own.  Steve just shook his head and chuckled to himself, seemingly amused at their combined lack of self-control and utter surprise at being suddenly interrupted in the busy health club locker room.  Bucky pushed his kiss-swollen lower lip out in a pathetic pout before darting towards the showers.  Steve sighed heavily and sat down on the long wood bench in front of him.  He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees to try and hide the massive boner that would otherwise be tenting the tiny towel he was wearing like tee-pee.  Of course, right at that moment Sam showed up in search of his ward.

“Hey, man!” Sam called with a smile.  “Must be your lucky day.”

“Yeah?” Steve answered curiously from his hunched over post on the bench.

“Yeah.  Your last client just called in to cancel.  Wasn’t within the club’s 24-hour notification period so you’ll still get paid.  And now your afternoon is free.”

“Oh,” Steve said dumbly as he ducked his head and closed his eyes, still willing his erection away.

“You okay, Cap?” Sam asked with obvious concern.

“Um, yeah,” he answered with a wince.  “I think I might’ve pulled something,” he lied. “Nothing a little stretch won’t fix.”

Sam suddenly burst out with a loud laugh.  Steve looked down to his lap, hoping he wasn’t the source of Sam’s amusement.  He was relieved to see that he was completely covered and decidedly softer than he’d been just a moment ago.

Sam continued unaware of Steve’s inner turmoil.  “Speaking of being sore, wait ‘til you see the Sarge.  I _completely_ kicked his sorry ass today!” he snickered.  “Don’t think he’ll mistake Apollo Creed for Mr. T. again any time soon,” he added with a satisfied smirk.  “Make sure he stretches again later though or he might not be able to walk tomorrow.”

Steve stood up to grab his clothes, turning his back on his snarky colleague.

“I don’t think I stretch the same muscles on him as you do,” he replied coolly as he bit back a laugh.

“Sweet Jesus!” Sam exclaimed.  “I sure as hell hope not,” he added shaking his head incredulously.

Steve snorted a laugh as he pulled his shirt over his head.  “Sorry, Sam but you kinda set yourself up for that one.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sam said with a wave of his hand.  “Now get the hell outta here.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sir, yes Sir!” Steve replied with a mock salute.

***

The second time Bucky saw Steve after the Thanksgiving holiday was later that same day.  Following their brief encounter in the locker room, Bucky headed off to his office for a frustrating day of meetings and calls.  Meanwhile, Steve set up camp in a nearby coffee shop, whiling away his afternoon idly sketching the grey December cityscape, sipping on a non-fat latte and sending Bucky a litany of increasingly provocative texts, sordidly detailing the many ways he’d wanted to take the sergeant apart that morning and make him scream right there against the lockers.

Bucky did his best at first to ignore the little ‘pings’ alerting him to each new message from Steve, attempting to stay focused on the mountain of work that was piled high on his desk.  But after he caved and read that first, filthy note, he couldn’t help but count the minutes for the next one to arrive.  He’d hadn’t felt so inappropriately hard and horny since his final, high school football game when Wanda Maximoff decided to cheer for the boys with nothing but her bare skin beneath her tiny, pleated skirt.  The moment the last of his meetings dismissed, Bucky practically sprinted back to his desk, shrugged on his coat and bolted out the door.  He called Steve as he made his way into the throngs of people shuffling hurriedly down the busy city sidewalk.

“Hello?” Steve answered innocently.

“Where are you?” Bucky nearly growled.

“Lying naked in my bed,” he answered casually as he stretched out beneath the sheets.  “Waiting for you.”

Bucky damn-near tripped over his own feet as he moved to the curb to hail down a cab, waving his phone frantically in the air to get a driver’s attention.

“Don’t.  Move,” he ordered as he slid into the car.  “I’m on my way.”

***

Three incredibly satisfying hours later, the two men stumbled out of Steve’s room wearing nothing but sleep pants, sex-mussed hair and a set of matching love bites that would only bloom darker as the evening wore on.  They ordered a veritable ton of Vietnamese takeout and settled in on the couch to eat their fill, relishing the uninterrupted time to do nothing but be present in each other’s company.  When Steve caught Bucky dozing off during the third episode of their slated Dexter marathon, it didn’t take much to convince the other man to stay.  Neither of them particularly anxious to part ways again so soon.

In fact, in the days and weeks that followed, despite the hectic holiday season and Bucky’s busy work schedule, they were each determined to spend as much time together as possible.  For real this time.  They ate dinner at Carmela’s and breakfast at Peggy’s diner at least once a week.  They strung a few strands of lights around Bucky’s shoebox apartment, and took one of Tony’s many cars on an impromptu road trip to a farm upstate to cut down a live tree.  The full Frasier Fir hardly fit on the roof of the Rolls but it was the perfect size for Steve’s expansive condo.

In between, they spent their nights exploring each other’s bodies, memorizing every gasp, moan, and whimpering tell and exploiting that knowledge to give each other the most magnificent orgasms either of them had ever experienced.  More often than not, Bucky found himself waking up in Steve’s luxurious bed, happily nestled in his partner’s warm embrace—their legs tangled together like winding vines, keeping them connected even in the oblivion of sleep.

Who could blame Bucky if he pretended to still be snoozing when Steve turned off his alarm early in the morning only to snuggle back in for a few minutes more before pressing a gentle kiss to the brunet’s forehead and slipping quietly out of the covers to make coffee for them both before his daily run?  It was everything Bucky never knew he’d been missing since returning home from war.  Maybe even before then.  He’d never felt so happy.  So contented.  So… _complete._   Missing arm and all.

***

It was the day after Christmas when Natasha dropped by Bucky’s apartment for their annual post-holiday leftovers binge.  They used every pot and pan Bucky could fit inside of his cramped kitchen to reheat the wide and varied array of decadent dishes.  Natasha piled two plates and carried them to the couch where they settled in to chow down and catch up.

Natasha took a large bite of ham and chewed it slowly as she carefully studied Bucky’s sparsely decorated, unusually clean living space.  It made Bucky inexplicably nervous as he waited for her to swallow and speak.

“So…” she started before taking a long sip of wine.  “What’d Steve give you for Christmas?  I mean, besides that obvious and impressive hickey peeking out from under your shirt collar?”

Bucky smirked as he ran his fingertips over the mottled mark and bragged, “You should see the one I gave him.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and huffed aloud to voice her disapproval.  “You do realize that you are neither a) no longer a teenager, nor b) an actual vampire, right?  Despite the perpetual dark circles under your eyes and your brooding personality.”

Bucky ran the tip of his tongue over points of his canine teeth and winked.

“How can you be so sure I’m not secretly a Cullen?  My skin is almost as perfectly pale as yours,” he teased.

“ _Almost_ ,” Nat agreed as she speared a piece of sweet potato with her fork.  “But, I always thought if you _were_ a vampire, you’d be more of the ‘True Blood’ than ‘Twilight’ variety.”

“Good point,” he replied before lifting his glass of cabernet to Nat in a toast.  “I’d much rather be undead for an eternity with Eric than Edward.”

Natasha nodded her agreement.  “Tall, blonde, blue-eyed, handsome…you do seem to have a type.”

‘Yeah, I guess,” he admitted.  “But, Steve’s a lot more than that.”  Bucky got up and went to his room without further explanation.  He returned clutching a large picture frame against his chest.  He sat on the couch next to Natasha and waited for her to set her plate down on the coffee table.

“This,” he said as he pulled the frame away from his body and handed it over to Nat.  “This is what Steve gave me for Christmas.”

Natasha’s eyes grew wide as they roamed slowly over the contents in the frame.  Bucky couldn’t help but stare with her, still taken aback by the way Steve had managed to capture Bucky so completely in the charcoal pencil sketch.  The mischievous twinkle that lit up his eyes, the playful smirk that tugged up the corner of his mouth, the sexy cascade of his hair on the pillow, and the smooth lines and contours of his naked torso…it was almost more lifelike than the actual photo it’d been based upon.  Bucky vividly remembered snapping the shot and then how anxious he’d been right after he’d sent it.  He’d felt so vulnerable and exposed baring what was left of his arm, worried that Steve would be disgusted.  Then Steve replied with one simple word that soothed away Bucky’s worries like a healing balm and made his heart soar.

“Stunning,” Natasha said in a reverent whisper.  Bucky blinked owlishly at Natasha, unsure if he’d really heard her utter the exact word he’d just been thinking of.

“Steve drew this?” she asked, not even attempting to mask her genuine surprise.

“Um, yeah.  I sent him this selfie when we first started dating and he turned it into this.”

Natasha whistled her appreciation and shook her head in disbelief.  “He’s really good.  What the hell is he doing wasting his time working at the club?”

Bucky shrugged and watched as Natasha stood to prop the frame up on an end table.

“He likes helping people,” Bucky said finally as he poured more wine in Natasha’s glass.

“Thanks,” she said as she continued to study the sketch.

“Apparently it runs in the family,” he continued as he topped his own glass off.  “I met his mom on Christmas Eve.  Did you know that she was a nurse?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  You met his mom?”

Bucky just shrugged like it wasn’t the big deal that Natasha apparently assumed that it was.

“I didn’t know that his mom was a nurse.  Just like I didn’t know that Steve was an artist.  The Rogers’ are just full of surprises,” she teased.

Bucky just smiled and nodded in agreement.

Natasha chuckled at the blissfully content look on her friend’s face as she handed the frame back to him.  She picked up her wine glass and swirled the contents around idly.

“Well,” she said, pausing to take a sip.  “He’s very talented.”

“Yup,” Bucky agreed as he placed the frame down gently on the end table next to the couch before reaching once again for his plate.  He raked his fork through a pile of cooling sweet potatoes.

“And obviously completely in love with you,” she added nonchalantly before taking a sip and setting her glass back down in favor of picking up her plate.

“Yu—what?” Bucky asked almost choking on his words once his brain had apparently caught up with what Natasha just said.  The redhead just rolled her eyes as she was often prone to do in response to a lot of what Bucky said.

“Introducing you to his mom?  She’s like the only family he has right?”

Bucky furrowed his brows in concentration as he considered her statement.

“And the way he drew you…,” she continued glancing again at the framed sketch sitting on the table.  “It’s not just a sketch of your likeness.  It’s a dedication.  A tribute.  A love letter.”

Bucky turned to look back at the picture.  He knew he was falling for Steve.  Knew it in the way that he felt like he was melting every time that they touched.  And even though they were practically living together now, he still couldn’t bring himself to believe that Steve ever could possibly feel the same way about him.

“That’s a pretty special gift, James.”  Natasha said with a smile.  “Please don’t tell me that you gave him a pair of socks.”

“No,” he chuckled playfully.  “I gave him a basket full of art supplies.”

“Awwwwww,” Natasha cooed.

“And an epic blowjob.”

“It’s no wonder he’s completely smitten,” she laughed reaching unconsciously to play with her necklace.

“That new?” Bucky asked with a knowing smirk on his face.

“You know it is,” she replied as she released the single, ½ carat, tear-drop ruby from her fingertips, leaving it to rest on the delicate gold chain.

“Talk about bein’ head over heels,” he chortled.  “I’m pretty sure Sam pawned his wristwatch off to buy that for you.”

Natasha cleared her throat and put her plate back down on the coffee table.  “I know.”

“I mean, he obviously thought you’re worth it,” he added before coughing uncomfortably.  “I mean you _are_ worth it.  Of course you are.”

Natasha just smirked at him, apparently enjoying the show as Bucky made an ass of himself.  Bucky responded by clamping his mouth shut and giving her the finger, sending them both into a fit of laughter.

“It’s beautiful,” he said when once he’d regained his composure.  “Just like you.”

“Uh huh,” she replied unimpressed.

“So, what’d you get Sammy?”

“Please don’t call him that,” she answered.  “And I got him something that he’ll cherish forever.”  She paused dramatically while Bucky shot her an expectant look.  “An autographed photograph of Carl Weathers as Apollo Creed.”

Bucky nearly spit out his wine.  “No way!”

“Yeah, I found it cheap on eBay.  But don’t tell Sam that.  He thinks it’s priceless.”

Bucky laughed so hard, he almost fell off the couch.  When he finally collected his breath enough to speak he asked, “That’s not the only thing you got him, is it?”

Natasha scoffed in feigned offence.  “Of course not.  I gave him that, a new watch _and_ an epic blow job.”

Bucky raised his glass to Natasha in a toast.  “To giving the gift of epic head!” he announced with a wicked grin.

Natasha clinked her glass to Bucky’s and added, “Fellatio—the only present you’re guaranteed will never _ever_ be received with the words, ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have!’”

The two friends giggled in agreement before draining their glasses dry.

***

Bucky carefully eyed the one liter bottle of Coke standing on the table before him.  With his good hand he reached out and clutched it.  Then he exhaled sharply, loudly, and in a way that suggested perhaps he was subconsciously more interested in putting off action than releasing carbon dioxide from his lungs.

“Alright Sergeant Guinea Pig, let’s see if we can’t make you ambidextrous.  Obviously with a focus on the ‘bi’.”  Tony smirked as his comment drew Bucky’s concentration from the bottle.  The heretofore unidextrous guinea pig took another breath, again clutched Coke, and slowly, thoughtfully, extended his new metallic limb.  Bucky watched in amazement as the super-lightweight titanium alloy fingers moved in concert with his thoughts.  He took the bottle cap between metal thumb and metal forefinger, and as natural as he’d done with his right hand all his life, he twisted the cap open with just those two fingers.  The bottle wheezed a gasp of pent-up gases in approval while Tony clapped his hands loudly together in affirmation of his own boundless genius for designing such a masterpiece.

“Hot damn!” Bucky said proudly.  He smiled at Tony and offered him the bottle.  “Can a guy buy you a drink, Mr. Stark?” he asked.

“Let’s not go blowing each other just yet, RoboCop,” Tony said before taking a swig off the Coke.  “We have an entire afternoon of tests to run through before I sign off on you driving that fancy new arm out of the showroom.  I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t die of thirst in the interim.”

Bucky took the bottle with his new arm and titled it back.  “Heh, how mad would you be if you spent all that time designing and building and testing and redesigning and rebuilding and retesting this thing only to have me die as soon as you finished it?” he said after swallowing a huge gulp.

“I’d take one of the interns and cut their arm off at the exact same spot yours was amputated,” retorted Tony without looking up from the machine he was calibrating.  “Waste not, want not.”

Bucky gave a “well that answers that” shrug.

“C’mere, sit here and put your hand there.”  Tony pointed to a color-coded handprint on what otherwise looked like the kind of seated blood pressure machine popular in pharmacies.  “Take a minute to memorize the colors.”  The pinky finger rested on a red button, the ring finger an orange button, the middle finger yellow, forefinger green, and thumb blue.  “Wait, you’re not colorblind, are you?”

“Not to the best of my knowledge,” Bucky replied.

“Good.  That would really call into question the value of this exercise.  Are you ready?”  Bucky nodded.  “Pretty simple stuff, just press the button of the color you see with the appropriate finger.  It’ll speed up if you get it right, and slow down if you get it wrong.”

“Aye aye Cap’n,” Bucky said.

“I think you might have me confused with someone you fuck,” Tony remarked as he initiated the test.

A green dot appeared on the screen and Bucky pressed the green button with his forefinger.  A red dot appeared and he reacted accordingly.  The test continued, the images speeding up as Bucky became more comfortable and proficient with his new appendage.  Multiple images began appearing and Bucky struck the buttons as though he was playing a piano.  After a few minutes the colored dots began appearing so frequently and in such a number that Bucky was certain he couldn’t keep up with them even with his good hand.

“Not too shabby,” Tony said after the test ended.  “The better you do, the more impressed I am with myself.”

“Glad I’m here to help,” Bucky replied sarcastically.

The next couple hours went on like that, with Tony administering test after test.  Sometimes they involved complicated machines and Bucky had no idea what was being measured, other times they were simple tasks like tying strings or drawing circles and squares of different sizes.  Bucky noted that even though Tony never said as much, the genius inventor seemed to be thrilled with how the whole process was unfolding.

“There’s just one more thing,” Tony said after Bucky finished transcribing the Gettysburg Address using a standard keyboard.  Bucky was pretty disappointed with the results.  It would take some getting used to before he was accurately typing 100 words a minute again.  He hoped to rebound with whatever this final test was.

“Alright minions,” Tony shouted seemingly to the heavens, “Bring in the ‘Final Test’.”  It was a needlessly ominous declaration.  Or, at least Bucky hoped it was needlessly ominous.

A scared, skittish intern soon entered the testing room.  He was carrying a smallish box, about seven inches tall on all sides.  Tony smiled devilishly as the box was placed oh-so-gingerly before him.  “Thank you, nameless lackey,” he said.  The intern stood there, nervously grinning.  Bucky wondered if he was expecting a tip.  “Okay, away with you now,” Tony told him.  “Away away away.”  The intern skittered off as Tony opened the box.

Bucky was curious.  None of the other tests had come remotely close to exhibiting this kind of ceremony.

“Your final test, Mr. Barnes…” Tony declared, his back to Bucky, the contents of the box still hidden from sight, “is to open… THIS.”  Tony whirled around.  In his hand was a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Bucky guffawed, all the tension broken.  “You had me worried there,” he said through relieved belly laughs.

“Yeah, well, let’s see if this time you can open it without douching my entire lab.”

“I shall endeavor to do my best,” Bucky assured.

Tony held his hand up.  “Oh, wait, I almost forgot.”  He hustled over to a cabinet and pulled out a large lab coat and a welder’s mask.  “Okay,” he said after the coat was on and the mask was in place, “Now you can go.”

“That seems a bit excessive,” Bucky remarked as he began maneuvering his metal fingers over the tab.

“Heh” was all Tony said.

Bucky triumphantly popped open the beer… and was immediately coated in an explosion of foam.  The can erupted as though a quarter stick of dynamite had been secreted away inside waiting for the exact moment Bucky pulled on the tab to ignite.  Tony, droplets of beer running down his welder’s mask, doubled over in laughter.  Bucky was less than amused.

“What the hell?” he yelped as he wiped suds from his eyes.  “That couldn’t possibly have been my fault.”

Tony had to take a minute to collect himself before he was able to speak.  “That was fucking PERFECT,” he finally said after he flipped up his mask.  “The Finishing Department, the guys who do all our painting and detailing and what-not, have this awesome industrial paint-can shaker.  I’ve had that beer running in it since you got here.  That thing’s been shaken about ten million times.”

“Well,” Bucky surmised, “I guess that explains why you gave me a Pabst Blue Ribbon.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t going to waste a good beer on that.  Fortunately the interns drink swill.”

Tony pulled a towel out of the cabinet and tossed it to Bucky.  “Here, clean up,” he said, “We’ll call your special friend Stevie-poo and tell him to meet us at the bar.  My treat.”

“So does that mean I get to keep this bad boy?” Bucky asked as he toweled off his fancy new metal arm.

“As long as you sign a waiver promising not to use it as part of any weird sex games,” Tony answered.

“I can’t make that promise,” Bucky said.  “Steve’s into some crazy shit.”

“I fear for my creation,” Tony sighed.  “Let’s get out of here before the boss catches me cutting out of work early.”

Bucky was glowing as they left the lab.  Part of that glow came from the sheen of golden beer he was glazed with, but most of it came from the elation he was feeling over his new arm.  Bucky had assumed he’d either feel nothing about gaining the new appendage, or an uncomfortable awkwardness from being some cybernetic experiment freak.  But he didn’t feel that way.  He felt good.  He felt better than good.  Bucky felt powerful.  Ready to start the New Year out right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, an incredible New Year's Eve party the boys won't soon forget!


	13. Play It Again, Buck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's Eve and Bucky kisses Steve's lips at Midnight. Later he kisses other parts of Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of the U.S. wide release of Civil War, I've FINALLY updated this fic! Yay!! Hope you enjoy it :-)

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” the dapper, affable doorman greeted as he held the thick glass door open for Bucky and his companions.  The couple looked around in amazement as Happy stepped quickly around them all to call for the elevator.

“Holy shit-snacks this place is nice,” Nat blurted as she continued her wide-eyed evaluation of the gleaming lobby.

Happy smiled and did his best to cover his laughter with an awkward giggle-cough that made the rest of them smile in return.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Bucky answered smugly, thinking back on his first ride in the A.I. controlled elevator.

When the car finally arrived and the spotless mirrored doors slid smoothly open, Happy ushered them all inside and stepped up to the retinal scanner.  Sam and Natasha stood there and watched in awe.

“Heading to Mr. Stark’s party right away?” Happy turned to ask Bucky.

“Nah, stopping at Steve’s place first, please,” Bucky answered as he leaned casually against one wall, smug smirk still firmly planted on his face.

“You heard the man, Jarvis,” Happy said as he stepped back outside of the car.

Sam and Natasha nearly jumped out of their shoes when they heard the dulcet, disembodied voice reply, “Yes sir, Mr. Hogan.”

Happy gave them all a friendly wave.  “You guys enjoy the party and Happy New Year!”

“Happy New Year!” they all answered.  “And, thank you,” Bucky added as the doors slid closed.

As the elevator started to ascend without ever pushing a button, Sam stared dumbly at his own reflection in the mirrored wall before him.

“I should’ve dated Steve,” he remarked before Natasha punched him in the arm.  Sam rubbed the sore spot she’d created and mumbled an apology.

“You definitely should’ve,” Bucky agreed.  “Unlike Nat, Steve is a kind and gentle lover.”  Natasha spun to likewise punch Bucky in the arm, but her strike landed with a muffled thud.  She grasped her fist with her other hand and began dancing around in pain, screaming “Ow ow ow!”

“That’s what you get for punching the Steel Python,” Bucky said, flexing his new metal arm inside the sleeve of his dark grey wool coat.  “I’m invincible!”

Sam suppressed a laugh before comforting his date.  “Did the bad man hurt you, honey?” he questioned mockingly.   Natasha gave him a more gentle punch with her good hand before faking a sniffle and saying “Beat him up for me, Sammy-poo.”

“Baby, you’re hot,” Sam said as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.  “But you’re not ‘Fight a Cyborg’ hot.”  Then he cowered behind Bucky to avoid the tiny spitfire’s wrath.  But instead of again striking them Natasha made an overly dramatic pouty face and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Keep it up Wilson,” she grumbled.  “And you can take that New Year’s Midnight Kiss and kiss my ass.”

“I’d do whatever you want to that sweet, fine ass of yours,” Sam promised as he put his arm around her again.

“You won’t fight a cyborg for it,” she whined, though coyly, as she nuzzled up to him.  “Bucky, take your arm off so Sam can fight you.”

“Uh, it doesn’t really work like that,” Bucky replied.  “It doesn’t ‘come off’ per se.  It’s kinda part of me now.  If I want it off I gotta take it back to the shop and get Tony to take it off.  And frankly I’m more scared of Tony than of you, so it’s staying on.”

“Saaaaaaam,” Natasha cooed, “I’m going to need you to get a metal arm so you can fight Bucky for me.”

“Tell you what,” Sam countered, “I’ll get a Bucky mask and put it on Clint, and I’ll beat Clint up for you”

Natasha hugged him.  “Okay,” she said.  “That’ll settle for now.  But at some point I’m going to need you to get a fancy metal arm.”

“All the cool kids are doing it,” Bucky agreed, holding up his titanium hand as though that was proof.

They all jumped when the voice spoke out again.  “We’ve arrived at Mr. Rogers’ floor.  He’s been notified of your arrival.”

“Thanks, J.,” Bucky answered, escorting his friends down the hall and into Steve’s apartment.

“Holy shit-snacks,” Natasha again muttered as they entered Steve’s abode.

“Hey guys,” Steve said from the kitchen as they walked in.  He hustled over to them, shaking Sam’s hand before giving pecks on the cheek to Natasha and Bucky.  “Well, welcome to my place.  I guess I should give you the grand tour.”

“You do that and I’ll fix us some drinks,” Bucky suggested.  He kissed Steve sweetly on the lips and sauntered over to the kitchen.  Bucky studied Steve’s wet bar, attempting to decide how much effort he wanted to put into bartending.  When the trio returned, ending their tour at the kitchen, they found three bottles of beer (none of which had exploded when Bucky opened them, much to his relief) and one vodka tonic with a lime.  “I cut that lime special just for you,” he said as he handed the drink to Natasha.  “It’s a peace offering.”

Natasha took a sip and smiled, before turning to Steve and asking “Hey Stevie, would you do a girl a favor and beat up Bucky for me?”  Steve looked confused as the other two men laughed.

“Don’t mind her,” said Sam.  “She’s just frightened by the prospect of our future robot overlords.”

“All the cool kids are doing it,” Bucky repeated, again holding up his metal hand.

“I’ll give him a good pounding the first chance I get,” Steve promised, completely bereft of any sense of innuendo.

“Your place is amazing, Steve,” Natasha said, steering the conversation away from good poundings.  “I can totally understand what Bucky sees in you now.”

Steve chuckled.  “Yeah, well, it helps to know people.  And if knowing those people can score me a guy like Bucky, all the better.”  Natasha smirked as she stole a sidelong glance at her now blushing bestie.

“To who you know,” Natasha said, raising her glass.  “To who you know,” the three men repeated, raising their bottles as well before everyone clinked their drinks together and took a sip.

“If you think this place is nice, wait ‘til we get up to Tony’s.  I live in squalor compared to him.”

Natasha downed her whole drink in one giant gulp as the others looked on in awe.  “I want to go there,” she said as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  “Is Tony single?”

Steve thought about it.  “Well, he’s single in the sense that he’s not dating one specific woman.”

Natasha smiled slyly.  “I can work with that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.  “What do you have to say about this plan?” he asked Sam.

“Honestly, if she can land a place like this out of the deal, I don’t blame her,” he answered.  “Hell, for a place this nice I might hit on him first.”

“I’m not sure you’re his type,” offered Steve.

Sam cocked an eyebrow.  “Oh yeah?  Tony’s not down with the swirl?”

“Eh, I’m not sure it’s your skin color that’s limiting your chances,” said Steve.

Natasha slapped Sam’s ass.  “I promise you Sam would make a hell of a bottom,” she teased.

“Really?” asked Steve, intrigued.  “Well that IS interesting…” he continued, before Bucky slapped his ass as well.

Natasha took Bucky by the arm.  “C’mon,” she said, “Let’s head up to the party and find someone who appreciates you.  And that can beat you up for me.”

Sam chugged the rest of his beer before saying, “Let’s go, Steve.  We gotta nip this insurrection in the bud.”  Steve chugged his beer as well and they hurried off after their better halves.

The elevator didn’t just take them to Tony’s penthouse, it transported Bucky, Natasha, and Sam to a gleaming monument of modern American technological opulence.

“Holy fudgecicles, Steve,” Natasha exclaimed.  “What century is this?  Did that elevator make us travel into the future?”

“Technically yes,” said Steve, “in that it’s like 20 seconds into the future than when we left my apartment.”

Sam leaned over, whispering to Steve “Hey, did Tony create Skynet?  Is he responsible for the extinction of humanity?  Oh God, wait, did Skynet create Tony?”

“I for one welcome our future robot overlords,” Bucky smirked, waving his metal hand.

“This is the kind of place Tom Cruise runs through as he’s chased by the evil machines,” agreed Natasha.

“Or Matt Damon,” Sam added.

“Or Will Smith,” countered Natasha.

“Any number of action stars really,” Bucky said, still smirking.

Sam looked around in awe.  “I bet this place has enough evil robots to chase all of them and an age-appropriate Harrison Ford to boot.”

There were, as far as any of them knew, no actual robots in Tony’s penthouse.  But if there were evil robots, they were disguised as a very large gathering of some of the most attractive people any of them had ever seen, all dressed to the nines in fancy party-appropriate evening wear.

“C’mon,” Steve said, grabbing Bucky by the arm.  “We should probably find Tony and thank him for inviting we simple plebeians to this gathering of our cultural betters.”

Steve and Bucky mingled their way through the throng of party-goers while Natasha and Sam following close behind, oohing and ahhhing at the super-modern beauty of Tony’s domicile.

“Steve…?” Natasha asked.

“Yes?”

“If one of us kills Tony, then we get to become him, right?”

Steve chuckled.  “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Well now, Steve, let’s hear her out,” Sam reasoned.

The merry band of revelers followed Steve’s fearless lead around the party, but Tony was nowhere to be found.  They walked past the amply-stocked wet bar and the two gorgeous ladies tending it, but despite the protests of the rest of the group Steve didn’t let them pause for libations.  He informed them it would be rude to take advantage of Tony’s generosity before finding him and thanking him for inviting them.  That didn’t stop Natasha and Bucky from snaking hors d’ oeuvres from passing servers (who weren’t all women, but who were all gorgeous) whenever Steve wasn’t looking.  By the time they finally found Tony out on a balcony that was twice the size of Bucky’s entire apartment the two food thieves had snuck at least a pounds worth of fancy high-end appetizers.

Tony was holding court around an extremely large and extremely expensive-looking telescope that he clearly made some personal modifications to.  Bucky had spent enough time in Tony’s lab to know a machine with Tony’s fingerprints all over it when he saw one.  It looked like a telescope had married a ’67 Corvette and had a baby that was raised by the android from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis.

“It’s so clear,” said a leggy blonde in a skin-tight, plunging red dress as she peered through the eyepiece.

“I like to think the view’s so good you can see into the future,” Tony said slyly, much to the delight of his guests.

Natasha nudged Steve.  “Good enough to see into a future populated by evil robots,” she whispered.  Steve sighed and rolled his eyes while Bucky giggled next to him.

“Take turns everybody,” Tony declared as he stepped away from the telescope.  “And if you look into the city instead of the sky and find anyone who enjoys nudity but hates closing their blinds, come find me.”  The command caused a wave of titters and snickers through the group, and a look of hopeful curiosity from Sam.

“Hey,” Steve said once he caught Tony’s eye.

“Well if it isn’t my dear friend Mr. Rogers and my miracle of modern technology,” Tony greeted them.  “And, to a lesser degree, Bucky.”  Tony went to shake Bucky’s metal hand, but instead of shaking it he grasped it and gave the arm a studious once-over.  “Any problems,” he asked without releasing Bucky’s new appendage.

“I think the brand of lube Steve prefers might be making it rust a bit,” Bucky suggested, causing Tony to finally let go of the arm.

“I really do need to find a better class of guinea pig,” Tony remarked before turning to Steve’s other companions.  “And you must be Natasha and Sam,” he said as he shook each of their hands.

“Thanks for inviting us to this amazing party, Mr. Stark,” Sam said.

“Please, call me Tony.  And why don’t you guys have drinks?  You can’t possibly be teetotalers, can you?” Tony asked.  “I know Mr. Barnes isn’t.”

“Steve wouldn’t let us stop at the bar, Tony,” Natasha whined.  “Steve HATES fun.”

“It’s his most unattractive characteristic,” said Bucky.

“It always has been,” Tony agreed.

Steve rolled his eyes again.  “Fine, children, we can go to the bar now,” he said.

“Yay!” Natasha yelled while Tony sarcastically said “Thanks dad.”

The group left the balcony and began their circuitous route to the bar through the morass of party-goers.  Almost immediately Tony was distracted and detained by a short older man and his comically tall, inappropriately young date.  The rest of them soldiered on, eagerly abandoning the patron of the party and any semblance of the notion that no man be left behind.  There was reverie to be had, and precious little time left in the year to have it.

There were still surprises left in the year though.  As Steve and the gang fought their way through the bodies ringing the bar, a familiar face materialized.  Chatting up one of the hot bartenders was Clint, champagne glass in one hand, inappropriately large glass of Gran Patron Burdeos on the rocks in the other.

“Clint?  What the hell are you doing here?”  Natasha asked.

“Oh, hey guys,” he greeted them.  “Fancy meeting you here.  What’s the rumpus?”

“Shouldn’t you be at your bar?” questioned Steve.  “Isn’t tonight a big night for you?”

“Fuck no,” Clint said, between sips of champagne and Patron.  “New Year’s Eve is amateur hour.  Nothing but uncontrollable drunk ass-hats out tonight.  I close early instead of dealing with the headache.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in agreement.  “Makes sense,” said Bucky.

Natasha wasn’t having it.  “That’s fine, but what are you doing here?  At this party, in this room?”

“You invited me,” Clint said.

“I most certainly did not,” Natasha emphatically responded.

“Then Steve did?” he offered.

“Wasn’t me,” Steve said.

“Bucky did?”

“Nope.”

“Sam…?”

“I had to sleep with her just to get to be able to tag along,” Sam said, pointing to Natasha.

“Got the privilege of sleeping with her,” Natasha corrected, “Not ‘had’ to sleep with her.”

“What she said,” agreed Sam.

Clint shrugged.  “Well, I breezed through security, so obviously I was on someone’s guest list.  Regardless, the booze is both high-end and free, and I suggest we consume as much of it as possible.”

“The man has a point,” Sam said.

Steve leaned against the bar and caught the bartender’s eye.

“What can I get for you all?” she asked.

Steve naturally flashed his boyish Steve smile and both the bartender and Bucky swooned a bit.  “We’d like four glasses of champagne,” he said.

“And I’ll have a double of whatever your most expensive bourbon is, straight,” Natasha added.

“I’ll have what she’s having.  Not in the When Harry Met Sally sense,” said Sam.

“Oh, I’ll have an Old Fashioned,” Bucky chimed in.  “Because it sounds fancy and complicated.”

Natasha nudged Bucky.  “It’s odd that ‘Old Fashioned’ describes Steve, yet ‘fancy and complicated’ doesn’t,” causing Steve to give an obligatory eye roll.

“Here are your four champagnes, sir,” the gorgeous bartender said.  “I’ll have the other drinks ready presently.”

“They’re not just ‘mine’,” Steve muttered.  “They’re for all of us.”

The other three grabbed the champagne flutes and downed them in one collective gulp.

“Thanks Steve,” Sam said as next to him Natasha yelled “Barkeep!  Four more champagnes!”

“Might as well just get a couple bottles,” Clint suggested.

“I like where your head’s at,” Sam said.

“I’m literally a professional at this,” Clint replied.

The bartender quickly returned with their drinks and, to the sound of much rejoicing, opened up two bottles of 1998 Clos d’Ambonnay which Clint immediately snatched up.  “Jesus, these bottles have to be a couple grand apiece,” he said.  “I should keep the empties, fill them with Korbel, recork them and hock them to some suckers at the bar.”

“You’re not a good person, Clint,” Natasha observed.

“None of the best people are,” he answered.  Clint began replenishing everyone’s empty champagne flutes.  “So, how was everyone’s Christmas?  Sam, how was Kwanzaa?”  Even Steve chuckled a little at that.

“I’d like to make a toast,” Bucky said, his rose-colored cheeks betraying his increasing intoxication.  “To old friends making you try new things, and new friends becoming old friends.”

“I think he’s trying to gay recruit us,” Clint whispered to Sam, as everyone clinked their glasses together.  Steve leaned over and kissed Bucky on his rosy cheek, and Natasha grabbed Sam and locked her lips to his like she was a lamprey and he was a shark’s ass.

“I cannot abide these gratuitous displays of public affection,” Clint declared.  “I’m taking my bottle and going to find a nice, sad, vulnerable girl, preferably with low self-esteem, who’s desperately scared of not having anyone to kiss at midnight.  Sniff you jerks later.”  Only Bucky waved good-bye as Clint disappeared into the crowd of increasingly-inebriated party-goers.

After a few more drinks Steve and Bucky were shamelessly flirting, crowding impossibly closer to one another, and Natasha was all but climbing Sam when the party was interrupted by a fork tapping on a champagne flute from in front of a full jazz band, complete with a string quartet that had been providing musical accompaniment for the evening.

“Excuse me, could I have everyone’s attention for a moment,” Tony said in between taps on his flute.  “I’d like to say a few words.”  The crowd went from its gregarious roar to relative silence.  “If you’re here tonight, it’s because you’re a dear, dear friend.  Or you’re a friend of a dear, dear friend.  Or you’re a business contact I’d like to make or maintain.  Those are my favorite guests.”  Everyone laughed, especially the business contacts.

“This has been a pretty good year for me,” Tony continued.  “My company remains at the forefront of doing whatever it is we do.  Personally, I’ve made some new friends whose company I’ve cherished.”  No fewer than five super-model quality ladies smiled knowingly, as they assumed he was speaking of them individually.  “But it’s been an even better year for the people closest to me.”  Tony nodded to Steve.  “None of us know what the next year will bring, although I know it won’t bring killer robots, because I transferred all the guys in that department over to Custodial.”  Natasha immediately poked Sam in the ribs.  “SEE!” she tried to whisper.

“What I do know, though, is that starting the New Year off surrounded by the people you love, and who love you, and booze, is better than starting it off alone and sober.  And that’s why I’m thankful you’re all here.  To the New Year!”  Tony raised his glass, as did everyone else.

“To the New Year!” they all cheered, as everyone drank and laughed and hugged and kissed.

“Oh, it’s damn near time!” Tony shouted.  From seemingly nowhere a holographic image of Times Square appeared behind the string quartet.  The party-goers all joined the virtual crowd in Times Square chanting “10, 9, 8…”

Bucky held on to Steve, nearly vibrating with drunken, anxious energy.

“3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!” everyone shouted and whooped and cheered.  The musicians joined the holograph in playing Auld Lang Syne.  People kissed and sang along.  Natasha leapt up into Sam’s arms and eagerly claimed his mouth with a wet, sloppy kiss.  Somewhere Clint made out with a woman who any other time wouldn’t even have acknowledged being the same species as him.  Steve took Bucky in his arms and kissed him like they were in Paris in 1945 and Germany had just surrendered.  As Bucky melted, Steve whispered in his ear “You wanna dance, soldier?”

Bucky nodded slowly, smiling dopily at his incredibly handsome date.  Steve took Bucky’s hand and led them to the middle of the floor where everyone else had gathered to dance.  He turned and placed one hand firmly on Bucky’s right hip before taking up Bucky’s mechanical hand in his own.  He laced their fingers together and stared at their contrasting digits.  He rubbed his thumb over the smooth, cool metal plates, fascinated by the feeling of the fine moving parts.

“It’s beautiful,” he said as they began to sway to the soft, slow music.  “Like a living sculpture.”  Steve pulled their joined hands towards his lips and pressed a soft, gentle kiss Bucky’s shiny knuckles.

“Can you feel that?” he asked quietly, looking up at Bucky through the long fans of his eyelashes.

Bucky shrugged and began rubbing his flesh thumb soothingly over the soft, silky material of Steve’s suit pants.  “I can feel a little pressure when you squeeze my hand,” he replied.  “But, uh, I couldn’t feel the press of your lips.  Too gentle.”

“’M sorry,” Steve said a little sadly before he spun Bucky around dramatically.  Bucky giggled happily as he was pulled with greater force than Steve had likely intended back into his partner’s side.

“Sorry for what?  If it weren’t for you, you’d be holding an empty sleeve right now.  I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Maybe it was destiny,” Steve replied.  “Tony needed an arm amputee to test out his prototype and you were a perfect match.”

“I was talking about _you_ ,” Bucky said, nuzzling his nose along the bottom of Steve’s jaw.  He placed a kiss on the sensitive skin below Steve’s ear.  “So fuckin’ lucky you took the job at Rally.  That I _finally_ decided to listen to Nat and go to the club.  That I’m a clumsy asshole who literally stumbled right into your arms.  Christ,” Bucky chuckled and shook his head as he looked down at their feet.

Steve dropped Bucky’s hand in favor of placing his fingers gently under the brunet’s chin.  He tilted Bucky’s chin up to look him in the eyes.  “I’m the lucky one, Buck,” he said before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to the Sergeant’s perfectly plush lips.

Bucky felt like he was floating.  And it wasn’t just the alcohol buzzing his brain.  If he’d had any doubts about it before this moment, they’d all but evaporated in the heat of Steve’s gaze.  Bucky was irrevocably in love with Steve Rogers.  When Steve pulled back, Bucky smiled at him and sighed contentedly.  Just then the music changed to an upbeat jazz number.  Steve bit his lip and raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Think you can follow my lead, Sarge?” Steve asked playfully.

“I’ll try n’ keep up,” Bucky smirked.  He made a mental note to thank his three bossy, insistent sisters later for the years of informal, unsolicited dance lessons he’d been subjected to over the years in the anonymity of his parents’ basement.  But for now, he removed his suit jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair and rolled up his sleeve cuffs, all the while tapping his toes to the beat of the music as he prepared to sweep Steve off of his feet—literally and figuratively.

***

A few hours later the vast majority of the party had cleared out, having gone home to consummate the New Year with old or new friends or just to pass out.  The proud few who remained were considered to be a part of Tony’s inner circle.  The wait-staff had cleaned up and clocked out, and the band was long gone.  Sam and Natasha were sitting together on a loveseat, talking quietly and occasionally giggling to each other about jokes only they could hear.  Most of the remaining guests stood or sat around the bar, where Tony was holding court, the consummate host.  Bucky and Steve were off by themselves, sitting on the bench of a baby grand piano Tony liked to fiddle with whenever he needed to work through a particularly complex problem.

“I think I’m a little drunk, Steve,” Bucky confessed with a crooked smile.  “If you were ever going to take advantage of me, now’s your opportunity.”

“When have I needed you to be drunk to take advantage of you?” Steve teased him.

“That’s a fair point.  I cannot dispute that argument.”  Bucky began tickling some of the ivory keys with his good right hand.  “You know, there was a time when I was pretty good at this.”

Steve mussed Bucky’s hair.  “Seems like you’re still pretty good at it.”

“Yeah, well, I used to be able to do more than one play one-handed chopsticks.”  Bucky was just drunk enough to be sadly wistful.

Steve held up Bucky’s metallic hand.  “Stop me if I’m wrong here, James, but isn’t the whole point of your shiny new appendage to enable you to do all the wonderful things you could do… well… ‘before’?”

Bucky looked like Steve had just told him some profound secret that’d been obvious to everyone else, like how there’s an arrow hidden in the middle of the FedEx logo, or that Arby’s comes from R-Bs, which stands for Roast Beef.  He moved his metal hand from Steve’s grasp to the keys, and played a few tentative notes.  Instantly Bucky’s whole demeanor changed.  He began playing more notes, and faster.  Occasionally he’d mess up, and he’d laugh, because it wasn’t his new hand’s fault, it was because he was drunk and hadn’t played a piano in years, and that made messing up okay.

But Bucky was just drunk enough to also have the courage to continue playing, and begin working through his whole repertoire, or what repertoire he could still remember.  He was playing for Steve, but really he was playing for himself.  It wasn’t long before he was focusing completely on what notes came next, forgetting all about how those notes were being produced from something that until recently had been a piece of equipment in Tony’s lab.  When Bucky finished, he looked up to find that every person left at the party had gathered around the piano, watching him.  Immediately they all began to clap.  Bucky’s face turned a deep shape red.  He wanted to hide, but Steve was hugging him so hard he couldn’t hope to escape.

“Bucky, that was beautiful,” Natasha said.  She wiped a tear away from her eye, and blushed in concert with her friend.

“That was amazing, Mr. Barnes,” Tony agreed.  “You deserve at least 8% credit for that performance.  Of course, as the creator of that remarkable arm, I will be taking the remaining 92% credit.  Seriously though, I’ll be taking 100% of the credit.  You’re welcome.”

Bucky goofily raised his prosthetic in mock acknowledgement of Tony’s contributions, making sure to waggle his gleaming middle finger a little higher than the rest towards the amused inventor.  Steve stood up and grabbed two fresh glasses of champagne from the bar, handing one to Bucky before raising his own to make a toast.

“To Tony’s arm and Bucky’s everything else.  My two favorite people wrapped up in one glorious package.  But mostly to Bucky’s package.”  Everyone laughed and cheered as they clinked their glasses before draining their drinks.

“I knew inviting you would be a mistake, Steven,” Tony joked as he turned his attention back to the bevy of beautiful women hovering at his heels.

Bucky cackled with glee, thoroughly pleased with Steve’s smartass remark.  He handed his empty champagne flute back to Steve before turning back to tickle the ivories and play another tune.  Steve left the empty glasses on the bar and returned happily to his seat, straddling the piano bench this time to stare unabashedly at his talented date.  Bucky tried to concentrate on the notes in the song but found it much harder than it should’ve been under Steve’s mischievous, predatory watch.

“You’re makin’ me nervous Steve,” Bucky said, hitting another sour note.

“You’re making me horny Buck,” Steve replied, sliding closer until their knees were touching.

Steve leaned in to kiss Bucky on the cheek.  He trailed his lips slowly down to the brunet’s jaw placing another soft, lingering kiss there.  Bucky shuddered and struck a chord so out of tune it earned a heckling shout from Sam.  “Why do you hate us, Sarge?”

This time, Bucky made no effort to conceal the middle finger he was now pointedly holding in Sam’s direction.  Meanwhile, Steve moved over to nibble on Bucky’s earlobe.

“God, watchin’ you play,” Steve said, his voice low and husky.  “That look of concentration and pure joy on your face.  It’s so fuckin’ hot.”

Bucky whimpered and stopped playing all together, tipping his face towards the ceiling as Steve began to suck and kiss along the elongated column of his throat.  Unable to contain himself any longer, Bucky turned towards the eager blond, taking his face in both hands to pull him in for a desperate, open mouth kiss.  Steve pulled back a second later, vaguely aware of their semi-public surroundings.

“You wanna get outta here?” he asked breathily.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Bucky answered.  “Before I take you right here in front of everyone in this room on top of Tony’s Fazioli.”

Steve stood quickly, pulling Bucky up with him.

“Well, goodnight everyone,” he said louder than was necessary as the couple began making their way quickly towards the door.  “Thanks for everything, Tony.  Sam, uh…‘wrap it before you tap it’.  And, um, everyone else, Happy New Year!  Mazel Tov!  Yadda, yadda, yadda…”

With that, Steve yanked Bucky out the front door, waving wildly one last time to their stunned-silent friends before practically slamming the door shut behind them.  They’d barely made it two steps down the hall before they heard the explosion of laughter that followed in their wake.  Steve and Bucky soon followed suit, falling into a fit of giggles that had them bent over and gasping for air as they took the seconds long elevator ride back down to Steve’s floor.

“You know, you’ll never hear the end of that,” Bucky said as they stumbled back into Steve’s apartment.

As soon as Steve closed the door, he stepped behind Bucky and placed his hands firmly on the other man’s hips.  He pulled Bucky’s back flush to his chest and leaned over his shoulder to mouth hot kisses in the juncture between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

“Don’t care,” he answered as he pulled Bucky’s dress shirt tails out of his trousers so he could reach up under the wrinkled fabric and touch warm, soft skin.  He trailed his fingers over the ridges of Bucky’s abs and added, “Know what _I’d_ like to hear?”

“Hmmm?” Bucky replied, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation of Steve’s thick fingers wandering over this chest before finding their way to pinch and pull at his rapidly stiffening nipples.

“You.  Screaming my name while I take you slowly apart in my bed,” Steve purred in the brunet’s ear.  Bucky moaned and arched his back, pressing his ass against the burgeoning erection in Steve’s pants.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered reverently.

“That’s a start,” Steve answered before tightening his grip on the other man’s hips and thrusting forward so hard that Bucky would’ve toppled over were it not for Steve’s steadying hold.  Steve then steered Bucky towards his bedroom, pausing once to kiss and suck on Bucky’s neck, grinding his painfully trapped hard-on over the firm, round curves of Bucky’s ass cheeks.

As soon as they crossed the threshold into Steve’s room, Bucky suddenly turned around and wrapped his arms, flesh and metal, around Steve’s waist.  He leaned in to kiss Steve’s soft lips, surprising the blond with the slow, gentle pace that he’d set.  Their tongues beat together hungrily, not hurriedly as they stood near the foot of Steve’s bed, their hands clumsily working to remove each other’s clothes.  Steve broke the kiss to toe off his shoes and unfasten his belt.

“You looked gorgeous tonight, Buck,” Steve said as he watched the other man slide out of his suit coat and loosen his tie.

Bucky smirked at Steve and raised his eyebrows as he made quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Thanks, but you were definitely the hottest guy at the party,” Bucky answered honestly.

Steve shook his head as the blush began to stain his cheeks.  He was about to argue the point when Bucky cut him off.

“Don’t even try to tell me otherwise, Rogers.  You’re adorably oblivious to your own incredible good looks and completely captivating charm.  I’m actually shocked that bartender tonight didn’t try to tackle you when my back was turned.  Or at least slip you her number.”

Steve pulled a crumpled napkin out of his pants pocket and handed it to Bucky, a coy smile playing on his lips.

“Laura, huh?  You planning to give her a call then?” Bucky asked, trying like hell not to sound too jealous or heartbroken.

“No!” Steve answered with a laugh as he sloughed of this slacks.  “Believe it or not, she asked if I could set her up with Barton.”

Bucky chuckled as he stepped out of his own trousers and peeled off his socks.  “Wow.  You’re even more beguiling than I originally thought if you convinced that woman that Clint was a worthy catch.”

“I didn’t do a thing,” Steve admitted as he pushed his boxer-briefs down his thick, toned thighs.  Bucky swallowed loudly as he eyed Steve’s semi-hard dick hanging heavily between his legs.

“Clint was just—”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupted, his eyes on the prize that was Steve’s glorious cock.

“Yeah?” Steve replied casually, any thoughts of what he was about to say about Clint evaporating as he watched Bucky peel off the last remnants of his own clothing.

They stood there admiring each other’s naked bodies for a moment more before Steve met Bucky’s darkened gaze with his own.

“Yeah,” Steve answered himself with nod of understanding a moment before they both lunged at each other, colliding together like powerful magnets.

They kissed and groped and moaned into each other’s mouths as they moved blindly towards the bed.  As soon as Steve had backed into the mattress, Bucky shoved him on the shoulders, knocking the blond back onto the bed.  Bucky crawled up quickly afterwards, laying himself on top of Steve, anxious to resume their hotter-than-hell make-out session.  An instant later, Steve flipped them over, pinning Bucky to the bed beneath him.

“What do you wanna do, baby?” Steve whispered in Bucky’s ear as he slid their thick, hard lengths together.

“Fuck,” Bucky whined, arching his body upwards in search of more friction, more heat, more Steve.

Steve chuckled against Bucky’s lips.  “Yeah, me too.”

Steve pushed himself up for a moment and stilled his movements.  He grinned at Bucky and looked him in the eyes.  “I want to make you feel so good, Buck.  Tell me what you want.  What you need.  Whatever it is…I’ll give it to you.”

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  How was this man even for real?  Despite the heat and desire pulsing through his veins, in that moment, Bucky was overwhelmed by his feelings for Steve.

“You,” he replied.  “I want you,” _Kiss._   “I need you,” _Kiss._   Bucky placed his hands, metal and flesh on either side of Steve’s face and looked straight into his big, blue eyes.  “Steve… I love you.”

Steve bit his lower lip and huffed a breathy laugh before his entire face lit up with one of his genuine, trademark, bright-as-the-sun smiles.

“I love you too,” he answered before stealing Bucky’s breath away with an impassioned kiss.  “So much.”

“Then show me,” Bucky challenged with a mischievous smirk and a wicked roll of his hips.

Steve growled and rolled them over once more so that he was lying on his back again.  Bucky sat up and swayed a bit as he adjusted to straddle Steve’s hips.  “You’re makin’ me dizzy, Steve.”

“Hmm…wonder how you’ll feel after you _finally_ fuck my tits?” Steve said cheekily.

“Holy shit,” Bucky gasped as his dicked jumped against Steve’s abdomen.  “How the fuck did I forget about that little promise?”

“You still wanna try it?” Steve asked as he looked down at his chest and purposely flexed his ample muscles.

“Is that a joke?  I’ve only been fantasizing about it since the first time I saw you shirtless in the locker room!”

“Well, then,” Steve said as he reached over to grab a bottle of lube out of the nightstand.  He squeezed a large dollop onto the center of his chest.  “Come n’ get it.”

Bucky licked his lips and stared at the pool of lube now settled in the shallow, scarred valley between Steve’s round, firm pecs.

“Shhhhh…,” Bucky put a finger up to his lips.  “I need you to be quiet now, Steve.  Your chest and I are about to have a moment,” he whispered as he got on his hand and knees and shuffled into position.

Steve barked out a loud laugh in response as he braced his arms along both sides of his body.  He flexed his biceps and his pecs at the same time, pushing the firm, golden flesh up and in.  Bucky hovered over Steve’s sternum and dipped the tip of his full, flushed cock into the waiting, skin-warmed puddle of lube.  He sucked in a hissing breath between his teeth at the sight and sensation as he slid his dick slowly forward between the two, hard-earned mounds.

Steve watched with rapt fascination as the shiny, plump head snaked over the ridges of his marred skin, coming close to his waiting lips.  Inch by tantalizing inch.  The unobstructed, ringside view was already making Steve hard as a rock, but when he shifted his gaze to Bucky’s face and saw the look of lustful concentration and wavering restraint, he couldn’t stop his own hips from jerking up.  As soon as Bucky had “bottomed out”, where the tip of his cock was in front of Steve’s chin, the blond leaned forward to lick at the head.

“Fuck, Steve!” Bucky shouted, thrusting further forward on instinct.  Steve hummed happily as he suckled the head and savored the taste of Bucky’s precum, all the while aiming a smoldering look right into Bucky’s soul.  It took all of Bucky’s resolve to pull back away from that sinful mouth even for the mere seconds that it took to glide his shaft back through the constricted passage and forward again.  Each time he thrust forward, he let himself get lost a little longer in the hot, wet heat of Steve’s talented mouth until he’d stopped moving all together.  Steve gave him a quick, stinging slap on the ass.  Bucky looked down at him dazed and confused.

“C’mon baby,” Steve husked as he squeezed his muscles tighter around Bucky’s shaft.  “Fuck my tits.  Fuck ‘em ‘til you blow your load all over my face.  Please.  I want it.”

Bucky looked down at Steve, who continued to tongue the slit of his dick so fucking sweetly it almost looked innocent.  He groaned at the sight, felt his balls start to tighten and then he proceeded to lose his fucking mind.  He thrust his dick hard and fast in the valley forged between Steve’s pecs and into his waiting mouth over and over and over.  The slick, obscene squelching noises filled Bucky’s ears and with the lube, the friction, the spit and the suction, it wasn’t long before he felt that familiar fire spreading through his veins.  He was covered in sweat and his breaths were ragged as he gasped for air.  Steve reached a hand up and covered Bucky’s cock surrounding him on all sides of Steve’s makeshift channel, squeezing a little and instantly hurtling Bucky over the edge.  Bucky looked down through the wet, clumped tangles of hair that hung down around his face just in time to watch a fountain of cum erupt from his tip, painting Steve’s nose, cheeks, lips and chin with a heady amount of his hot, thick release.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted as he watched Steve eagerly lick Bucky’s cum from his own lips like it was frosting from a goddamn cupcake.  “The year’s barely begun and already it can’t possibly get better.”

“The night’s still young,” Steve said with a wink.

“And you’re still hard,” Bucky observed as he got up to grab a washcloth.  “Let me clean you up real quick and then I promise I’m gonna take care of you.”

“You always do,” Steve replied.

Bucky hurried to the bathroom and returned a few moments later, sat on the edge of the bed and got to work cleaning the mess of cooled cum off of Steve’s gorgeous face.

“That was A-MA-ZING,” Bucky said in awe as he trailed the towel down to wipe the mess of lube away from Steve’s chest.

Steve chuckled, “Yeah?  Was it everything you thought it’d be?”

Bucky leaned down to place a chaste kiss in the center of Steve’s freshly cleaned chest.

“Is it considered cheating if I have an affair with your pecs?” Bucky teased as he moved over to suck on Steve’s left nipple.

Steve let out a half-laugh, half-moan and replied, “As long as they’re _my_ pecs, I think I’ll let it slide.”

Bucky tossed the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and climbed back up onto the bed, settling himself between Steve’s wide-spread thighs.  He reached down between their bodies and wrapped his right hand around Steve’s now semi-hard cock.  He stroked him the way he knew Steve liked best, twisting on every upstroke before palming over the thickening head.  As Steve’s breathing picked up, Bucky made his way south, mouthing his way down Steve’s treasure trail as he languidly stroked him back to full hardness.

Bucky tipped Steve’s dick up and rubbed his face all over it, like a contented cat petting itself along a person’s calf.  Steve watched through heavy lids and whined in a whisper, “Don’t tease me.  Bucky please…”

Bucky hadn’t meant to tease.  He was simply basking in the essence of Steve—the sight, scent, and feel of this incredible man who now undeniably owned his heart.

“’M sorry, baby.  I didn’t mean to.  I just love this.  Love you.” Bucky said before placing a kiss to the glistening tip of Steve’s reddened cockhead.

Steve thrust his hips up gently, barely able to contain his need.  “Love you, too.”

With that Bucky parted his lips and enveloped Steve’s dick in the warm, wet heat of his mouth.  He swirled his tongue along the frenulum before deep throating him as far as he could go.

Steve gasped out a choked-off grunt as his hands flew down to tangle gently in Bucky’s hair.

“Oh god…” Steve moaned.  “Your mouth…”

Bucky swallowed once around the shaft, then pulled back off with obscenely satisfying, slurping ‘pop’.

“I’m just gettin’ started,” he drawled, pumping his hand over Steve’s spit-slick cock while he spoke.  Bucky dove in, sucking hungrily on Steve’s erection, bobbing his head up and down in an unpredictable rhythm that varied from firm and fast and light and slow.  He could feel Steve’s perfectly thick, velvety-smooth cock growing stiffer on his tongue when he decided to back off slowly.  Bucky felt genuinely bad when he saw the pained look on Steve’s face but he had other plans in mind.

“Why?” Steve panted.  “Why’d you stop?  I was gonna warn you if you didn’t want to swallow.”

Bucky rolled his eyes amusedly.  “Have I ever backed off from swallowing before?” he asked.

“Well, no…”

“You taste so fuckin’ good, Stevie,” Bucky continued as he scooted back on his belly, sinking lower on the mattress.  He licked and nipped at the sensitive skin on the insides of Steve’s thick, hard thighs as he went.  “I just wanna eat you up.”

Steve moaned as he watched Bucky push his legs further apart and back, his eyes darkening at the unobstructed view of Steve’s gorgeous ass.  Bucky squirmed against the mattress as he felt his own cock thrumming back to life at the mere sight of Steve so open and vulnerable before him.

Bucky licked his lips, “All of you,” he said pointedly.  Before Steve had a chance to reply, Bucky dove in, eagerly laving over Steve’s pretty pink hole with broad, circular licks.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” Steve chanted as he alternated between staring down at the man between his thighs and tossing his head back into the downy soft pillows, his eyes squeezed shut to focus on nothing but the feeling of Bucky’s wicked tongue teasing him open.  Encouraged by Steve’s reaction, Bucky delved in deeper, penetrating the tight ring of muscle with slow, deliberate, shallow thrusts with the tip of his tongue.

“More,” Steve panted pulling his own knees closer to his chest to give Bucky even better access.

Bucky didn’t hesitate, he spread Steve’s cheeks open further with his thumbs and buried his face as deep as he could to while maintaining the ability to breathe.  He sucked and licked and probed Steve’s ass, bringing him to the cusp of orgasm once more.  Bucky reached up with his flesh hand to wrap it around Steve’s straining erection.  He’d just begun to stroke him in time with the onslaught of his tongue when Steve called out.

“Wait!”

Bucky froze and popped his head up.  His mouth and chin were glistening with saliva and his hair was wild from where Steve had been blindly running his fingers through it.

“You okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

Steve took a second to gather his wits before smiling down at the sweet, sexy man before him.

“Better than okay.  I…I just.  I was gettin’ too close and I didn’t want to cum like that.  Not tonight.”

Steve exhaled deeply and grabbed Bucky by the hand.  “C’mere,” he said, pulling the brunet back on top of himself.  Bucky raised an eyebrow at him in curiosity, but went willingly, without hesitation.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bucky asked quietly once they were face-to-face, searching Steve’s eyes for some kind of sign that maybe he’d somehow fucked up.  He was relieved not to find any.

Steve answered him with a kiss.  One that started sweetly but soon turned to searing as their bodies aligned and their cocks brushed together again.  They stayed that way, just kissing and rutting and moaning and groping for who knows how long before Steve finally pulled back, breathless and desperate.

“Fuck me,” Steve said, his voice thick and gravelly.  “Please, Buck…I wanna feel you inside of me.”

Bucky panicked for a moment, wondering if maybe this had all just been a dream.  That at any moment he’d wake up alone in his shitty apartment with the painful recognition that none of this was real.  After all, in all of the incredibly satisfying times he’d been intimate with Steve, Bucky had always bottomed.  He’d never complained about it or asked to switch.  He _loved_ being stuffed full with Steve’s beautiful cock.  And he hadn’t been lying when he told Sam and Nat that Steve was a kind and gentle lover.  He always took his time to prep him well—sometimes frustratingly so, but he refused to risk hurting Bucky.  Once he was fully seated inside though, Steve seemed to thoroughly enjoy pounding into Bucky’s ass until they were both seeing stars from the force of their orgasms.

Bucky’s brain snapped back online when he felt Steve shift beneath him, reaching into the nightstand to retrieve the condoms and lube.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked as he moved to lay beside him.

Steve worried his bottom lip between his teeth, looking suddenly unsure.  “If you don’t want to—” he started.

“No!” Bucky interrupted.  “I mean, yes!  Fuck yes.  I want to.  It’s just, we’ve never…”

“I love you, Buck,” Steve answered, handing over the bottle of lube.  “I trust you, and I want to experience everything with you.”

“I love you too,” Bucky replied as he leaned in to capture Steve’s lips with renewed vigor and passion.  He popped the cap on the bottle of lube and coated his flesh fingers before reaching down to circle Steve’s little pink hole.

“Relax baby,” Bucky said as he kissed his way down the column of Steve’s throat.  “I’ll be gentle.  I promise.”

Steve whimpered, taking Bucky’s face in both of his hands and kissing him senseless as he felt Bucky slide one slick finger inside of him.  He pumped it slowly in and out until he felt Steve’s muscles begin to relax.

“Feels good,” Steve groaned in encouragement.  “Keep going.”

Bucky slowly added a second finger, giving Steve time to adjust to the intrusive stretch and insistent burn that he knew would soon be replaced with familiar pleasure.  To distract Steve from any discomfort, Bucky slid down Steve’s side and scooped his cock into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve moaned as Bucky bobbed his head, sliding his mouth over Steve’s shaft as he thrust his fingers in and out, crooking them in search of Steve’s prostate.  He knew he’d found it when Steve bucked his hips involuntarily, accidentally gagging Bucky in the process.

“Shit,” Steve panted.  “’M sorry, baby.”

Bucky chuckled and kissed Steve on the hip.  “I’m not,” he replied as he massaged his fingertips over that sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, earning a loud, shuddering moan from Steve as he arched uncontrollably off of the mattress in unabashed pleasure.

“Right there, right there, right there,” Steve chanted, thrashing his head from side to side.  “Bucky!”

Bucky sucked a bruising mark on the jut of Steve’s hip and rocked his own rock hard dick against Steve’s leg as he withdrew his fingers just enough to give his lover a moment to catch his breath.  He let his eyes roam over the gorgeous man spread out beneath him.  He couldn’t help but admire and appreciate the way every muscle in his strong, toned body contracted reflexively beneath golden skin with every deep breath that he took.  He really was a work of art.  Like one of those naked, roman statues on display at the museum—only with the biggest, prettiest penis he’d ever seen.

“Ready for more?” Bucky asked.

“I’m ready for you,” Steve replied.

“Just a little longer.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve whined impatiently but didn’t argue further as Bucky grabbed the lubed and squeezed a little more over the fingers that were still pressed into Steve’s ass.

“Gonna add one more,” he said before squeezing a third finger past the tight ring of muscle.

Steve winced for a moment, then let his legs fall open further as he pressed himself down on Bucky’s fingers.  Bucky took the hint and started thrusting in and out, slowly working Steve open.  Scissoring his fingers and seeking out Steve’s prostate until he’d made a shaking, begging mess of him.

“Bucky,” Steve gasped.  “Baby, please.  I need it…need you.  Now.”

Bucky nodded, removing his fingers slowly from Steve’s hot, slick, entrance.  He got up too quickly and teetered for a moment as the sudden bout of vertigo hit him, making him woozy as the room spun around.  He shook his head and waited for the sea of neon dots that were clouding his vision to clear.

“Head rush,” he said in explanation as he grabbed a condom and positioned himself between Steve’s widespread legs.

“Fuck Steve,” he said as he worked to rip the packet open with shaky hands.  “I’m so worked up right now I might shoot off while I try to put this thing on.”

“Here,” Steve said sweetly as he took the condom from Bucky.  “Lemme help.”  He tore the packet open with ease and pulled the condom out.

“C’mere baby,” he beckoned.  Bucky shuffled sheepishly closer, his erection swinging side-to-side as he went.  Steve curled up from the bed like he was doing a stomach crunch and fuck if that wasn’t distracting.  Steve’s abdominal muscles flexed from the strain of his position making Bucky’s mouth water as he envisioned how they’d look even hotter covered in a mosaic of his thick, hot release.  Apparently he had a thing for making a mess of this perfect man.  Or maybe it was more primal than that.  Possessively staking his claim and leaving his ‘mark’ so the whole world would know—Steve belonged to him.

“Fuck, I can’t wait ‘til you put this inside of me,” Steve said, bringing Bucky back in the moment.  Steve reached out to steady Bucky’s long, thick cock with one hand while he used the other to place the condom on top of the flushed, swollen, crown.

Bucky threw his head back and hissed as Steve rolled the condom carefully down the length of his shaft.  When he looked back down, he wasn’t really prepared for what he saw.  Steve laying back down, knees pulled back to his chest, both hands pulling his ass cheeks wide apart.  An open invitation for Bucky to enter his fully exposed, lube covered channel.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered as he leaned over Steve.  He braced himself on one hand and grabbed the base of his dick with the other, lining himself up as he attacked Steve’s mouth with a brutal, urgent kiss.

Steve whimpered into Bucky’s mouth the moment he felt the big, blunt tip of Bucky’s cock press against his asshole.  Bucky kissed Steve softly.  Reverently.

 “I love you, Steve,” he whispered against his lips as he pushed his hips forward and finally slipped inside.

Steve blinked back tears, suddenly overwhelmed by both the sensation of being stretched so wide around his lover’s cock and the love that he felt for this incredible man.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve grunted.  “I love…love you too.”

It’d been a long, long time since Bucky had fucked someone in the ass but he’d be willing to testify on Capitol Hill that Steve had the tightest goddamn sphincter on the face of the Earth.  As he slowly slid deeper inside, he bit down hard on his bottom lip and tried to think of something—anything—to distract him from the smooth, hot, vice-like pressure now enveloping his sensitive dick.  Baseball stats, marketing plans, taking a mental inventory of the number of arrows decorating Clint’s bar—nothing was working.  He could feel his orgasm building at the base of his shaft like a tightly wound coil on the verge of springing free.

“Shit,” Bucky panted as he bottomed out, fully sheathed inside of Steve.  “You feel so, so, so good baby.  So tight.  Fuck.”

“Nnggghhh,” was apparently the only response that Steve could muster in that moment.

Bucky sucked softly on the sensitive skin beneath Steve’s ear as he waited for some indication that it was alright to move.  A moment later, Steve was searching for Bucky’s mouth, wrapping his arms around the brunet’s neck while their tongues beat together in a passionate kiss.

“Mmmm…Bucky,” Steve uttered.  His hands wandered down Bucky’s toned back coming to rest on the globes of his firm, round ass.  He pressed down, forcing Bucky’s cock to sink that much deeper inside of his ass.

“Move, baby.  Fuck me good,” Steve purred as he clenched his muscles and smacked Bucky on the ass.

Bucky growled and circled his hips before taking a few shallow, tentative thrusts.

“Yessssss,” Steve hissed his approval.  “God, your cock feels so amazing, Buck.  Like it was made just for me.”

Bucky whined and snapped his hips, drilling hard and deep into Steve’s ass.  Steve all but screamed as he raked his fingernails down Bucky’s back, leaving two distinct sets of raised, red lines in his wake.  He was beyond thankful in that very moment that he’d cum once already that night.  Between Steve’s tight body and his filthy, urging words it wouldn’t be long before he’d be filling that condom.

Bucky reached down between their bodies and had just wrapped his fingers around Steve’s drooling cock when Steve batted him away.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” Bucky asked, slowing his thrusts.

“I do,” Steve said reaching for Bucky’s metal hand.  “With this.”

“Steve, no.”

“Shhhhh…You’re not gonna hurt me, Buck.”

Steve tugged the shiny digits up to his lips and placed a soft, adoring kiss to each one.  Bucky watched on, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Don’t stop,” Steve said, rocking down on Bucky’s cock to encourage him to move again.  “Please.”

“Steve,” Bucky said hesitantly.  “I don’t think it’s—”

The rest of his protest dried up on his lips the moment that Steve sucked the plated forefinger into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” Steve repeated before sucking the middle finger in too.

Even though he couldn’t feel it, the sight of Steve fellating his sleek, new fingers while staring seductively into his eyes sent an unexpected wave of desire straight to Bucky’s dick.  He began to pump his hips again, quickly resuming his earlier rhythm as Steve moaned wantonly around the titanium between his lips.

“Christ…,” Bucky panted as his balls slapped loudly against Steve’s ass, “I probably shouldn’t find that to be so hot…but fuck it all to hell…I do.”

Steve grinned victoriously and really put on a show, sucking each metallic finger, one by one, down to the base and flicking his tongue in the valleys in between until he’d coated them all with his saliva.  Bucky leaned down to plunder Steve’s mouth with his tongue, so turned on he could hardly see straight.  When he pushed back up, he watched as Steve guided their intertwined fingers down his incredible body towards his throbbing cock.  Steve released his hand and tilted his hips up, pulling his knees even tighter to his chest.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted as the head of Bucky’s cock rammed into his prostate.  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he sobbed.  “Please...touch me.”

This time Bucky didn’t hesitate.  The only thing he cared about in that moment was making Steve happy.  Making him feel good.  Making him cum harder than he’d ever had in his entire life.  He circled his mechanical fingers loosely around Steve’s cock and just let it rest there inside his lax fist.  Steve arched up into the touch.

“Oh god, yes,” Steve mewled as he looked down between his legs to admire the view.

Bucky carefully tightened his grip, watching the tiny platelets as they shifted precisely into place.  He rubbed the tip of his cool, metal thumb over Steve’s dribbling slit.

“Fuck,” Steve huffed.  “Stroke it.  Please, Buck.  ‘M so close.”

“I know, baby,” Bucky cooed as he began to move his metal hand cautiously over Steve’s delicate flesh.  “You’ve been hard for so long.  It’s gonna feel _so_ good when you finally blow.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Steve panted.

Bucky halted his movements for only a moment to retrieve the lube.  He drizzled a hefty amount over Steve’s aching cock to ease the glide of metal on skin.  The brunet grew bolder, increasing the speed of his strokes and twisting his wrist in just the way he knew would drive Steve wild.  He pumped his slick fist swiftly over Steve’s shaft while he continued to plunge hard and fast into his tight ass, making the blond moan Bucky’s name so loudly that if it weren’t for the absolute sound-proofing in the place, the entire building—or more likely the entire _block_ —would know what they were doing.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum!” Steve proclaimed as his writhing body went suddenly stock-still.  Bucky choked out a strangled grunt as the already tight channel surrounding his cock contracted even harder around him.  Bucky looked on with utter amazement as his lover’s release burst out from his tip, landing with a splattering flourish right below Steve’s left collarbone.  He continued to stroke Steve through the aftershocks until he was overwhelmed by his own need for release.

“Fuck!” Bucky shouted as he drove his cock in as deep as it could go one last time, shuddering with the force of his second orgasm as he pumped his release into the condom.

As the stars that were still swimming in his vision slowly faded away, he was able to focus once again on the beautiful man beneath him.  Steve looked perfectly ruined, his hair damp with sweat and sticking up like an adorable porcupine.  Bucky couldn’t help the dopey smile that spread on his face as he pulled out slowly and admired the view.  Steve looked up at him wearing a matching grin. 

“That was incredible,” Steve said as he stretched his long legs out on the bed while Bucky got up to dispose of the condom.

“You’re incredible,” Bucky replied, grabbing a couple tissues before plopping down on the bed next to Steve to wipe his chest and stomach clean.  Steve yanked him down for a kiss and pulled him into his arms.

“I’ve never been as happy in all my life as I’ve been these past few months with you,” Bucky admitted as he snuggled in closer to Steve’s side.  Steve wound his fingers through Bucky’s hair, twirling the soft, dark strands absently around his fingers.

Bucky leaned up on his elbow to look Steve in the eyes.

“You’re everything I could ever hope for in a partner,” he said sincerely.  “Sweet, sexy, smart, sarcastic, smokin’ hot.  Honestly, I’m not really sure what the hell you’re doing with a chump like me but—”

“Hey,” Steve interrupted, levelling a stern glare at Bucky.  “Nobody’s allowed to call my boyfriend a chump.  Not even you.”

“Boyfriend,” Bucky repeated with a smirk.  “So we’re exclusive now?”

“Wait,” Steve said, suddenly concerned.  “Were ‘we’ not exclusive before?”

Bucky laughed.  “I haven’t been able to even think about anyone else since I met you, let alone do… all this… with someone.”

“Whew,” Steve exhaled.  “Me either.”

Bucky gave Steve a peck on the cheek as moved to get up.  “Come on then.  I need my boyfriend’s help to change these sheets and wash my back in the shower.”

“If you’re good, I’ll wash your front, too.”

Bucky bit his bottom lip and gave Steve a hand out of bed.

“Right now I'm better than good,” he answered. "Right now I'm perfect." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a little love if you're enjoying this story. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! Also, feel free to find me on Tumblr. I'd make a link if I knew how but I'm a technological idiot. Anyway, I'm 70SecretKinks there too :-)


	14. It Takes Four to Tango

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an amazing NYE, hectic work schedules make it tough for anyone to find time for a little fun. When the gang finally gets together though, the night doesn't go the way they'd hoped it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovelies! Happy 1st day of September! :-)
> 
> My usual apologies for how long it's taken to update. Hoping (as always) to be quicker with the next installment. Kids are back in school which means more time to write so here's hoping!

The week following the New Year’s Eve of the Millennium was especially brutal for everyone.  Bucky was rewarded for his hard work in the prior year by having a bevy of new projects dropped in his lap.  That meant if he wasn’t at the office running from one important meeting to the next, he was trapped in his apartment, working until all hours of the night.  It also meant he was getting precious little quality time with Steve.  Bucky was forced to cancel his sessions with Sam due to his insane workload, so he didn’t have a chance to even run into his beautiful boyfriend in passing at the gym like he’d become so accustomed to doing.

Steve was likewise slammed with new clients, as people attempted to earnestly make good on their New Year’s Resolutions to lose ten pounds.  There were a couple of evenings where their schedules coincided enough for Steve to bring Bucky dinner, which consisted of a few minutes of wolfing down food followed by ravenous sex until they both collapsed from exhaustion.  On those nights, Bucky eventually turned on his laptop to get back to work, but mostly he watched a naked Steve sleep.  These were not the most productive hours of Bucky’s work history.

Seeing the blitz everyone was enduring, Sam put his food down and declared a Friday night Team Building Exercise at Clint’s bar, attendance for which was mandatory.  Steve made sure to stress the “mandatory” aspect to Bucky.

“Sam said if you don’t come to the bar,” Steve told him, “then we’re bringing the bar to your apartment.  The ENTIRE bar.  And that the theme of your apartment will be ‘Rock Out with Your Cock Out.’  Clint promised to come pants-less and alternate between doing bare-assed squats and grinding like a stripper on every piece of furniture you own.”

Bucky concluded that there wasn’t enough Lysol in the world to make his apartment livable again after that and immediately agreed to attend.  He really needed to break away from work for a while anyway.  He’d never say as much, but the stress and long hours of his job were very much beginning to weigh on him.  Of course, it probably wouldn’t have felt so oppressive if he could’ve seen Steve more than the handful of times they’d managed to get together.

It was crazy to Bucky how being away from the sweet, gorgeous blond seemed to seriously magnify any problems he was having.  Until recently he’d always fancied himself rather self-sufficient—he’d learned to work and live alone after losing an arm for chrissakes!  But now?  Now he was moping around like a dejected teenager because he couldn’t see his boyfriend every day.  James Buchanan Barnes: battle-hardened veteran and lovesick 16-year old.  Much more of this and Bucky would have to start stocking up on Morrisey albums, tubs of cookie dough ice cream, and the complete first season of My So-Called Life.  He was pretty sure he had started to ovulate.

So, when Bucky walked into Quiver on Friday night and saw Steve waiting at the bar waiting for him in his thigh-hugging dark-wash denim jeans, painted on plain white cotton t-shirt, and caramel brown leather bomber jacket, Bucky was fairly certain in that moment that he’d dropped an egg or three.  Something like that.  He wasn’t really an expert on the female reproductive system.

“Hello lover,” Steve cooed as Bucky sidled up next to him.  He leaned over to kiss Bucky, and to the brunet’s surprise—what he expected to be a simple ‘hello’ kiss had devolved into Steve tongue-diving down Bucky’s throat to depths normally reserved for endotracheal tubes and especially brave sword swallowers.

“I’ve been here for awhile,” Steve said with a smirk as they finally separated.

“I can tell,” Bucky answered.  “I think I caught a buzz from your kiss.”

Steve smiled sheepishly.  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to turn red.

“I’m reasonably certain I would fail a breathalyzer right now,” added Bucky.  Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

From the business side of the bar Clint rolled his eyes like the cure for every form of hepatitis was written on the ceiling above him.

“Hey Buck, is there something you want in your mouth that isn’t connected to Steve?” Clint asked.  “Maybe a beer, or some other type of beverage I actually make a profit on?”

Bucky rubbed some excess saliva from around his mouth as he considered his options.

“I’ll take whatever you largest draught is, with a bourbon sidecar.  And you’re probably going to want to make that sidecar a double.  And maybe add a bourbon chaser.”  Clint counted the drinks off on his fingers.

“So you want a tall beer and three shots of Bourbon?”

“To start,” Bucky affirmed, nodding.

Steve raised his eyebrows at Bucky’s drink order.

“It’s been a hell of a week,” replied Bucky to Steve’s surprised and somewhat concerned look.

Clint returned with a beer and a rocks glass that was nearly full.  “I put three shots in there,” he said.  “I didn’t see the sense in dirtying more glasses.”

“We tell people we come here for the ambience, but really it’s the top-notch service that we most appreciate,” Bucky said with such sincere earnestness that it actually made him sound even more sarcastic.

Then he chugged half the beer, then half the bourbon, then finished the beer followed by the rest of the bourbon.  He slammed the empty rocks glass on the bar, leaned over to Steve, grabbed Steve’s cock through his jeans and gave his boyfriend a quick, throat-deep tongue-fucking of his own.  Steve hummed into the filthy kiss and instinctively rocked up into Bucky’s touch.

“Jesus you two,” Clint bitched.  “Knock it off, this is a classy place.”

“Classy?” said Steve accusingly after his mouth separated from Bucky’s.  “You have Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap.”

“This is a classy-ish place,” Clint amended.

“The only time this place is classy is when she walks in,” announced Sam as he and Natasha walked up to the bar.

Steve and Bucky spun around giddily on their barstools to face their friends.

“Sweet Christ on a cracker, are you two already shit-faced?” asked Natasha.

Steve burped and then answered.  “I’m a bit buzzed, and I think Buck’s about 30 minutes away from being fall-down drunk.”

“Goddamn,” said Sam and Nat simultaneously.

As the gang all made their ‘hellos’ and ‘how-have-you-beens,’ Bucky noticed two guys at a table on the other side of the bar alternate between glaring at them and making dick-sucking motions and laughing with each other.  They didn’t seem to notice Bucky noticing them though.  He could tell that they were the kind of mouth-breathing, illiterate assholes who were just dumb enough to be really dangerous.  _This is what you get when you have Pabst Blue Ribbon on draught,_ Bucky thought.  _It either lures in self-obsessed hipsters or these kinds of ass-hats._

“Hey James, earth to James,” Natasha called, breaking his train of thought and holding a full shot glass in front of his face.  “Are you going to do a shot with us or what?”

“I think another shot right now might kill me,” he answered.

“So a beer then?”

“Oh yeah, definitely a beer,” said Bucky.  “Who do I look like, noted Temperance activist Carrie A. Nation?”

“Um…no?  I guess you don’t look like her?” Nat offered.

“Exactly.  Beer me!” Bucky yelled.

He was feeling good.  Actually, he was feeling great.  He was well on his way to being comfortably buzzed, his week from hell was finally behind him, he was with his friends and quite possibly the love of his life, and they were all bound and determined to blow off some steam and have a great time.  What could possibly go wrong?

***

It took just a little over an hour for the rest of the drunks to catch up to Bucky’s initial salvo of inebriation.  And then the party really got started.  Hour 2 featured an epic Boys vs. Girls dart match that saw Natasha and Bucky emerge victorious (and Bucky questioning the gender implications of him being designated to the Girls team) and left Sam and Steve responsible for squaring up the tab at the end of the night.

Natasha decided to begin abusing the privilege of free drinks by ordering a round of victory shots for herself and Bucky.

“To the girls winning the battle of the sexes, as we always do,” she said, her blowjob shot raised in a triumphant toast towards her winning partner.

“I still don’t understand why I was on the girls’ team,” Bucky mused, somewhat less triumphantly.

“Well then, you’re the only one who doesn’t understand why,” Clint muttered, despite being ten feet away and not at all part of the conversation.

“It’s okay, honey,” said Steve as he pecked Bucky sweetly on the cheek.  “You’re all man to me.”

“See, my boyfriend thinks I’m a man,” Bucky crowed.  “It’s because he’s seen my penis,” he added, his words just beginning to slur.  A week of him moping around like a teenager had turned into a weekend of him holding his liquor like a teenager.  There was only one logical way for any of them to proceed at this point:  Hour 3 meant dancing.

Things started off innocently enough, as things usually do.  Nat and Bucky danced playfully together while Sam and Steve sat at the bar watching their better halves shake their booties and laughing at some of their more clumsy moves.  After a few songs Natasha shifted her focus to Sam, resulting in what amounted to a barstool-based lap dance.  It was a pretty amazing sight to behold for all the straight men in the vicinity.

“I love my job,” said Clint, who was enjoying the second best view in the place.  Sam would’ve said something too, but all the blood that operated the speech center in his brain had migrated to his cock, rendering him useless for all non-cock related activities.

Bucky pulled Steve away from the bar to begin a dance of their own, though it was more Drunken-Prom-Night-Slow-Dance and less like Nat’s Cut-Scene-From-Showgirls-But-With-More-Plausible-Dialogue moves.  They slowly swayed, shoulder to shoulder and cheek to cheek from one end of the bar to the other.  Bucky melted into Steve.  The painful problems of the past few weeks began to disappear leaving the brunet to bask in the memory of conquering the world with Tony’s piano and how he’d spent the rest of that magical night with Steve.

Bucky nuzzled his face into Steve’s neck, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, drawing as much of Steve’s clean, masculine musk into him as he could and hoping that despite all the alcohol muddling his mind that this would be one of the moments he’d remember for the rest of his life.  When he opened his eyes again he realized that they’d danced to within feet of the mouth-breathers Bucky had noticed earlier that night.  And then, just as the song ended, one of them spat out, “Fucking faggots.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide and his faced flushed with surprise and anger, but before he could otherwise physically react Steve let go of him and whipped around.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” asked Steve in a voice that was severe but measured.  “Because I know you couldn’t have possibly have said what it sounded like you said.”

The man who had spoken remained seated, his posture not aggressive but neither did it seem he was backing down.  And with a voice just as severe, if not as measured as Steve’s, he said “I said you fucking faggots prancing around here are ruining the taste of my beer.”

As he spoke his friend stood up, finished off his beer, and slammed the empty glass down on their table.  He was taller and thicker than both Steve and Bucky, but he wasn’t muscular as much as he was a giant mass of flesh.  And he had the demeanor of someone who was used to intimidating people.

“Seems to taste just fine to your friend,” Steve said, nodding to the empty glass.  “If you don’t like the beer here, maybe you should find somewhere else to drink.  In fact, if you want to step outside I’d be happy to give you a list of places that cater to closet cases I think you and your date would really enjoy.”

The other patrons left in the bar were either too focused on Natasha’s amateur production of soft-core porn or their own conversations to notice the violence that was brewing in the corner.  Clint was much closer to jerking off behind the bar watching Nat gyrate than he was to realizing he was about to be dealing with an asshole and a giant committing hate crimes against two former government-trained killers.  Usually alcohol is a miracle of human achievement but every once in a great while it leads to things like drunken homophobic bar fights.

Another unfortunate byproduct of alcohol consumption is the slowing of reflexes.  So when the seated asshole barked “You’re going to be a world-class cocksucker when I knock all your fucking teeth out!” and whipped his half-full beer right at Steve’s face, the normally preternaturally quick Steve was unable to dodge it.  He was able to duck enough so that the glass smacked a glancing blow off his forehead rather than slamming square in the middle of his pretty face, opening a nasty gash above his right eye.

The entire exchange unfolded in slow motion before Bucky.  He saw the asshole picking up the glass as he yelled back at Steve and Bucky thought, “ _He’s going to throw that shit…he’s going to throw that…he’s throwing that.”_   And as the glass left the guy’s hand Bucky watched as it seemed to creep through the air, thinking _“Protect Steve…knock it down…protect Steve…protect Steve.”_

And like it really wasn’t a part of him, Bucky watched as though from across the room as his prosthetic arm snapped from his side to in front of Steve, but all it caught was the trail of beer erupting from the glass as it whizzed past.  In his peripheral vision it registered that the glass hit Steve, but most of what Bucky saw were the droplets of golden liquid turn to fine mist by the force of his metal hand.  When Bucky turned back to look at Steve there was already blood pouring down his face.  And then all the air was crushed out of Bucky’s lungs as he was tackled by the asshole and slammed backwards into the bar.

In actuality everything happened so quickly that to Sam, Clint, and Natasha the sound of the glass shattering against the wall after careening off of Steve’s head and the thud of Bucky’s body being driven back into the bar happened almost simultaneously.  Natasha leapt off of Sam while at the other end of the bar the giant was taking a swing at Steve.  He was as slow as he was big though, and even dazed and essentially blind in one eye from the blood, Steve was able to dodge the guy’s punch.  He had to dodge Natasha as well as she darted right past them and flung herself into the torso of the thug attacking Bucky.  Sam was right behind her, ripping the man away from Nat and Bucky and pinning him to the floor.  Clint brought up the rear after having to run all the way around from his side of the bar and decided his best course of action would be to help Sam and to hold Natasha back from absolutely murdering the guy on the ground.

Even though Steve was the one with blood in his eye, it was Bucky whose vision had turned completely red with rage.  Once Nat and Sam had freed him from his assailant Bucky roared to Steve’s defense, rocking the giant with an adrenaline-fueled right cross that spun him halfway around and then grabbed his throat with his enhanced metal hand and choke-slammed the giant into the wall.  The last discernable words he was able to spit out before Bucky cut off his air supply was “Metal arm?  Fuckin’ freak!”  He pounded away at Bucky’s prosthetic to no avail.  Bucky’s hand was like a bear trap rusted shut.

“Ease up, Buck.  We won,” Steve said, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve’s gentle touch snapped Bucky out of his berserker rage, calming him.  But he didn’t let go.

“C’mon Bucky, let him go, he’s not worth it,” said Steve, his voiced filled with concern, and it wasn’t over his face looking like half a Rorschach test done in red ink.  The giant’s face was turning blue, his eyes were bulging, and the only sounds he could make were desperate, gurgling noises.

Fear flashed across Bucky’s features as his face turned pale and sweat dotted his brow.  “I’m trying,” he said.  “My arm… it’s not letting me.  It’s stuck or something.”

Steve grabbed the arm at the wrist and yanked.  The grip was so tight Steve worried if they pulled the hand off, it might take the guy’s windpipe with it.  It didn’t help that the giant was flailing about, though his strength was waning as he ran out of oxygen.  Even the crew subduing the other guy were beginning to notice the direness of the situation.

“Bucky!” Natasha yelled.

“What the fuck?!” yelled the asshole from underneath Sam and Clint.  “You hurt him and I’ll kill you all!”

“Sam, a little help here,” Steve said, straining to dislodge Bucky’s hand.  Sam jumped off the guy on the ground, who tried himself to escape but was immediately overpowered by Clint and Natasha.

“I’ll pull the fingers, you pull the thumb,” ordered Steve.

Sam tried peeling Bucky’s thumb back, but Bucky’s grip was such that Sam could find no purchase.  Steve was having an equally bad go of it with the fingers.  And Bucky was struck with terror at the very real possibility that he was moments away from unintentionally murdering a man in a bar.

“It’s starting to loosen I think!” Sam yelled.  At the same time, the giant’s flailing had stopped entirely.  He completely passed out, causing his legs to give way, and the sheer weight of his mass caused him to drop to the floor and drag Bucky to his knees.

Sam saw his chance.  “Pull Bucky!” he yelled at Steve, who quickly followed orders, moving behind his boyfriend and wrapping his arms as tightly as he could around his chest.  Sam grabbed a barstool and slammed it like a battering ram at the crook of Bucky’s elbow.  The impact was enough to finally dislodge the vise-like hand.  Steve and Bucky collapsed back into each other, and everyone in the bar, combatants and bystanders alike, watched the giant in muted anticipation.  He lay completely motionless, until Clint got up and kicked him swiftly in the gut.  The giant’s chest heaved, filling with air, in reaction to Clint’s booting him.

“Alright you two ass-hats,” Clint announced, “this is where you go to jail.  And everyone else, there’s a two-drink minimum for the dinner show you just enjoyed.”

Steve hopped up and pulled Clint aside.  “You can’t call the cops,” he said.

“Steve, buddy, have you seen yourself?  You look like you face-fucked a ruptured placenta.  It’s assault.  Bucky acted in self-defense.  Assuming they threw the first punch, right?”

“They did,” Steve confirmed.

“Then it was all recorded by my security cameras, plus there’s a shit-ton of witnesses.  It’s an open and shut case.  Bucky and you will be fine.”

“Just kick them out,” said Steve tiredly.  “I’ll explain later.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.  “The customer’s always right…”

Steve, Sam, and Clint dragged the two hate-crime committing fucks out the front door and tossed them onto the sidewalk.

“We’re gonna sue you fuckers!” the smaller man yelled.  “We’re gonna own this fuckin’ place!”

Clint took a deep breath.  “You two shit-sipping fucktards ever see Con Air?” he asked.  “Of course you have,” he continued without giving them a chance reply.

“You know how it starts with two white trash pieces of human garbage assaulting the wife of Green Beret Nic Cage, and Nic Cage beats them to death in self-defense?  _This_ is essentially that.  You’re the white trash pieces of human garbage, and you just assaulted two decorated Army veterans.  Only you get to escape with your lives.  And I caught the whole fucking thing on camera.  Especially the part where the two decorated Army veterans acted in self-defense.  So you two shit-stains go and never stop fucking yourselves or these guys will sue your single-wides right out of the trailer park and you won’t have a wall to hang your G.E.D. on.”

The giant’s neck was already black with bruising and swelling, and he couldn’t have spoken if he wanted to, but he was able to start stumbling away pathetically down the street.  The asshole was left alone.

“Fuck you faggot cocksuckers,” he hissed, and then staggered after his friend.

Clint huffed a disgusted laugh and pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched them disappear into the night.

“Just another day in paradise,” he sighed before walking back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually write a lot of angst or insert too much drama into my stories but life isn't always sunshine and rainbows, right?
> 
> Anyway, I absolutely live for your comments so please let me know what you think! I promise to reply and share my sincere gratitude. <3<3<3


	15. Downward Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a hard time dealing with things after the frightening bar room brawl that left one man lucky to be alive, Steve with a nasty cut on his face, and Bucky with a broken prosthetic and a heavy dose of self-loathing and doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and Happy New Year! The good news is that I'm starting the New Year off with a brand new chapter. Yay! The bad news is that it's not the happiest chapter of the story or of Bucky's life. Apologies up front. Please don't hate me. I can promise that things will get better next chapter and that this story itself will end happily for all for anyone who might worry otherwise.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this despite the forewarned pain. I'd love to know what you think in the comments. If you'd like to chat about this story or these boys in general, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr. I'm 70SecretKinks there too!
> 
> Also, already working on chapter 16. One of my many New Year's Resolutions: write more and post more frequently!! Wish me luck!

Clint, Steve, and Sam returned to the bar to find Natasha comforting a devastated Bucky, while a few of Clint’s regulars worked to fix overturned tables and chairs.  Clint did some quick math and was relieved when it appeared that no one had skipped out on their tabs during the fracas.  Except of course the guys he had kicked out.  At least they were only drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon.

“Well that escalated quickly,” Sam said, breaking the tension.  “What the hell did those boys do?”

“They said Nat couldn’t lap dance for shit, and Bucky and I defended her honor,” Steve explained by way of deflection as he pressed the bar towel full of ice to the gash on his head.

Clint shook his head.  “Nat has honor?  The only way she might have any honor in her is if ‘Honor’ is the name she gave Sam’s cock.”

Natasha took her arm from around Bucky’s shoulder and slugged Clint in his.  “Ow,” he yelped.  “All I’m saying is for that kind of fight they would’ve had to say Nat’s pussy stank.  In front of her mother.”

Steve moved over to put his arm around Bucky now.  “They deserved everything they got,” he said, holding Bucky tight.  “Actually they got off easy.”

“Well, it could be argued they got off easy because _somebody_ wouldn’t let me call the cops,” Clint unhelpfully pointed out.

Steve sighed.  “We can’t involve the police,” he explained, “because we can’t involve Tony.  No matter how much they were at fault or what the surveillance footage shows, somehow it’ll come out that Tony built the arm and they’ll sue him for it.  And then either they win the lawsuit and walk away with Stark Industries, or they settle and get a bunch of money for being assholes and Tony just paid to make the problem go away.  OR, best case scenario, Tony wins the lawsuit and then he’s just out all the crazy legal fees that come with that.  And yes, the legal fees would be a drop in the bucket for Tony, but it’s the principle of the thing.  Tony’s already generous to a fault to me, I just don’t want to cause any trouble for him.”

Bucky sagged next to him.  He wanted to cry.

“Well you might not want to involve the police or Tony,” Clint said, “but you might want to involve a hospital, ‘cause your face is a fuckin’ mess.”

“Yeah man,” Sam agreed.  “How ‘bout Nat takes Bucky home and you and me go find a nice, quiet ER to bleed in.”

Steve pulled the blood soaked towel away from his face and placed it on the bar.  “Yeah…” he said, resigned.  “We should probably do that.”

He looked forlornly at Bucky.  “You okay, Buck?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” he lied.  The fact that Steve was battered and bloodied and was still worried about his well-being made Bucky sink even deeper into his own guilt.  “I should be the one taking you to the hospital,” he mumbled.  He wanted to add _“because this is all my fault”_ but didn’t.

“No,” Steve shook his head.  “Get home, get ahold of Tony and let him know what happened.”

“Tell him his shoddy craftsmanship is endangering local small business owners,” Clint added.

It was a snarky, joking aside that Bucky took literally.  He was a man deflated.  He had himself convinced that all of his friends were disappointed in him.  Maybe even afraid.  Probably both.  In reality they were all focused on Steve’s face.  A few minutes later Bucky watched as Sam helped Steve into a cab.  He’d wanted to apologize to Steve before he left, but Bucky was terrified of all the things he might blubber out, or worse yet, that he would have a complete emotional breakdown right there in the street.  Even when Steve had said, “I’ll call you when I get out” before Sam shut the cab door, Bucky had only been able to nod in response.  It was just one more thing that night that Bucky was ashamed of.

The ride back to Bucky’s place was unsettlingly quiet.  Natasha spent the brief journey with her eyes closed and her head leaned back, taking even, controlled breaths in an effort to quell the queasiness that was roiling in her stomach.  It was really hard to go from happily buzzed and simulating sex acts in public to sickeningly sober in such a short time frame and in such a brutal manner without puking all over ones shoes.  Meanwhile Bucky sat up stiffly, his now-defunct metal arm hung awkwardly at his side as he stared out of the window without really seeing, hypnotized by the bright city lights streaking by in a blur like a mosaic of melted crayons on a hot blacktop road.

***

“So, how do we get in touch with Tony?” Nat asked once the pair had arrived at Bucky’s apartment.  “Is there a customer service number etched somewhere on that arm?” she teased, attempting to get a smile or any kind of reaction out of her clearly traumatized friend.

The joke didn’t register with Bucky at all.  “I have a number for him in my phone,” he said in a glazed monotone.  “I think it’s under ‘Stark, Tony’.”

“I would’ve put it under ‘Genius, Evil’, or maybe ‘Predator, Sexual’ if I was feeling especially rude the day I entered it,” Nat replied.  “You want to give him a call or do you want me to?” she asked as she diligently thumb-scrolled through the contacts on Bucky’s phone.

Bucky didn’t answer.  Natasha wasn’t even sure that her friend had heard her.  Instead he hung his head, resting his face in the palm of his good hand.

“You know what,” Nat said, “I think I’ll just go ahead and handle this one.”

The line rang several times before the voicemail message picked up.  “You have reached the personal business number of a very rich and powerful man,” Nat heard Tony’s recorded voice say.  “If you’ve reached this number because you know who I am, leave a detailed message and I’ll have one of my minions address your concerns at a later date.  If you’ve dialed the wrong number, please leave a hilarious message so that I and my very rich, very powerful friends can make fun of you while we enjoy lives of wealth and excess the likes of which you couldn’t possible even begin to fathom.  Beep.”

_“So that’s what having ‘Fuck You Money’ sounds like,”_ Nat thought, before starting “Hey Tony, it’s Natasha calling from James’ phone.  Steve and James got into a pretty crazy fight at the bar tonight and now James’ arm is all fucked up.”  She paused for a moment, considering how her message might be construed.  “I should clarify.  Steve and James weren’t fighting each other, they were fighting two other guys like, you know, teamwork.  Anyway, his prosthetic is all fucked up.  I don’t know if this counts as an emergency…” she trailed off, looking at Bucky with his head still hung in his hand.  She turned her back to him and continued, whispering “I think Bucky’s pretty upset about it though so if you could please call him back as soon as you can.”  Natasha sighed, not sure what else to say.  She mumbled words of thanks, hung up and turned back to her distraught friend.

“C’mon hon,” she said.  “I think we all need to go sleep tonight off.”

Bucky looked up at her.  “We need to call Tony,” he stated.  “I think his number’s in my phone, under ‘Stark, Tony’.”

“Uh huh,” said Nat, frowning.  “Well, I think you’re still probably drunk and in some kind of shock, so how about we just get you to bed…”

“But what if Steve calls?” he interjected.

“Then wake up and answer the phone,” Nat said.  “I’ll put your phone on the nightstand right next to you.  And a glass of water.  And some painkillers.  You’ll hear it ring.  I promise.”

She helped Bucky stand up, wrapping her arm around his waist as she led him to his bedroom.

“I fucked everything up, Nat,” he said as he collapsed onto his bed.  “I ruined everything.  I ruined Steve.”

Nat sat on the edge of his bed and bit back the chuckle that she’d almost let loose at his overly dramatic claim.  Instead, she hummed as she swept his long bangs out of his eyes with her fingers.

“Shhhh… Steve will be fine,” she assured him leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead.  “Everything will be alright.”

“Stay with me?” he asked meekly as he shuffled over to make room for her on the bed.

Natasha nodded, kicked off her heels and crawled in under the covers next to him.  She draped an arm protectively over his midsection and kissed him on the cheek.

“Goodnight, Buck,” she whispered.  But Bucky hadn’t heard her.  He was already breathing deeply, his blurred and bruised mind and body finally succumbing to exhaustion.

***

It was 7:17 in the morning when Bucky’s phone erupted, shattering him out of a deep sleep.  He jerked awake, grabbed the phone and answered without even looking to see who was calling.  It had to be Steve.

“Steve,” Bucky croaked, his voice thick and hoarse from lack of use and too much booze.  “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“Steve hasn’t been okay since the fourth grade,” came the reply from a voice that was definitely not Steve’s.

“Tony?” Bucky asked tentatively.

“The one and only,” Tony smugly replied.

“Thank Christ,” Bucky said, feeling a surge of relief in place of the initial disappointment he felt at not hearing his beautiful boyfriend’s voice on the line.

“James my good man,” Tony replied.  “Good afternoon.”

“It’s like 7 a.m.,” said Bucky, squinting his eyes at the alarm clock on his nightstand as he relaxed back into the mattress.

“Not if you’re in Monte Carlo,” Tony corrected him.  “If you’re in Monte Carlo you’re just finishing up brunch.”

Bucky shot right past the pleasantries and got straight to business.

“The arm is fucked, Tony.”

“Yes, I know,” Tony answered.  “The Ginger Menace called and told me.”

“I broke it.  _And_ I nearly killed someone with it.  Everything is fucked.”

Bucky felt tears welling up in his eyes, feeling thankful right then that Tony couldn’t see him.  But this also meant that Bucky was imagining the look of utter disgust and disappointment on Tony’s face, and that made his throat tighten even more as those tears threatened to fall.

“At ease soldier,” Tony said.  “If I had a dime for every person I almost killed I’d have an indeterminate amount of dimes.”

Bucky took a deep breath to steady himself and his voice.  “What do I do, Tony?” he asked.  The question was specifically about the arm but to Bucky, he was pleading for any wisdom or instruction Tony might have to offer.

“Well, I have good news and bad news for you,” Tony said.  “The bad news is that while you had the second-worst weekend of your life, and in this scenario I’m assuming that you originally lost your arm on a weekend, making that the first-worst weekend, I had the first-best weekend of my life.  Every decision I’ve ever made has led to the gloriousness of this weekend and the two unbelievably gorgeous women who did such things to me that they haven’t even invented names for yet.  So obviously I’m in no hurry to come home when there are so many better ways to come here.”

“But Tony…”

“The good news is,” Tony continued, “I have a veritable army of lackeys at my beck and call, and can make one of them meet you at your convenience at the lab, where they will remove the arm so I can do a post-mortem on it to see what went wrong.  And of course then begin building you an even better model.”

Bucky had no idea what to say.  He didn’t know whether or not he should even get another arm.   In typical fashion, Tony just kept talking.

“I’ll get my assistant’s assistant’s assistant to give you a call and coordinate things.  And as soon as these two lovely ladies completely exhaust me of every ounce of ecstasy in my body I’ll head home to work on your problems.  Say ‘Thanks Tony’.”

“Thanks Tony,” Bucky mumbled blindly.

“You’re welcome,” Tony replied, and then hung up.

Bucky stared at the phone.  He was going to lose his arm.  Again.  Only this time maybe he wanted to lose it.  Deserved to be without it.  He took in a shaky breath as he got out of bed and made his way down the hall, still clutching his phone in his hand.  He swiped the screen to check his notifications tray.  No missed calls.  No new texts.  Why hadn’t Steve reached out to him yet?  Bucky could no longer contain the tears that had gathered in his tired eyes.  He blinked and sent them streaming warmly down his stubble-covered cheeks.  Was Steve mad at him?  Embarrassed by what had happened?  Ashamed of—or worse yet—afraid of him?  Was he okay?  There’d been so much blood.  Maybe he was in the hospital having reconstructive surgery to repair the damage that’d been done to his formerly perfect face?  Bucky squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to erase the image of Steve’s bloodied visage from his mind’s eye.  Instead, his brain unhelpfully supplied a brutal picture of the man he’d nearly killed the night before.  Eyes bugged out and filled with terror as Bucky’s metal digits formed a lethal vice around the man’s throat.  Bucky had been awake for less than ten minutes and already he was hurtling headlong towards a full blown panic attack.  The edges of his vision began to blur as the room started to tilt and swirl around him.  He squeezed his eyes shut tight and swallowed the bile that began to rise in his throat as he leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on the floor.

“I’m home in my apartment in Brooklyn.  I’m safe.  I’m home in my apartment in Brooklyn and I’m safe.”  Bucky whispered the words to himself, chanting them like a prayer over and over through ragged breaths waiting for them to begin to feel true.  Just as he’d started to hyperventilate, his phone began ringing loudly again.  He grabbed blindly for it, swiping a shaky thumb across the screen to answer.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Nat said.  “Sorry I had to run out this morning, but I had to a bunch of errands to run and I didn’t feel like waiting for your hungover ass to join the living to go and run ‘em.”  Natasha chuckled and waited for Bucky’s usually quick, sarcastic reply.

Bucky panted into the receiver, barely making sense of Nat’s words and apparently unable to form any of his own.

“James?”

Bucky swallowed loudly and began to wheeze as he struggled for breath.  He felt like he was drowning.

“James,” Natasha said more firmly as she made her way toward the curb, waving madly to hail a cab.  “Bucky,” she tried instead.  “Listen to me.  You’re going to be okay but you need to breathe with me, okay?  I’m on my way.”

Bucky held on to her voice like a lifeline.  Natasha counted their inhales and exhales together, keeping her voice commanding but calm until the moment that she slotted her copy of Bucky’s key into the lock and let herself in.

Bucky looked up at her from his crouched position on the hallway floor.  His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his nose was running and his hair was a tangled mess.

“Jesus, you look like shit,” Natasha huffed as she eyed him up and kicked her shoes off.  She grabbed a few tissues from the bathroom and knelt on the floor to wrap him up in her arms.  Bucky broke down again, sobbing into her shoulder as she rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head, murmuring words of reassurance into his matted mane.  Twenty minutes later, Bucky was completely exhausted.  He slumped further into her arms, hiccupping loudly and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just do that,” Natasha sighed, thrusting the tissues she’d been clutching into Bucky’s face.  He took them meekly and blew his nose.

“Alright,” she went on determinedly.  “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Bucky croaked, blinking blearily at his friend.

“Up off of the floor for starters,” she answered, slotting herself beneath his right arm and holding on tight as she used all of her strength to help hoist him up.  Natasha led him slowly towards his favorite couch and eased him onto the cushions.  She wrapped him up in the well-worn blanket hanging over the back and turned the t.v. on.  She scanned through his DVR list and landed on ‘You’ve Got Mail’.  She started the movie and tucked the blanket around his toes.  “I’m going to make you some tea and soup.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said tiredly.  “’M sorry,” he added quietly.

“Don’t,” Nat replied.  Then more softly, “Please.  You’re okay.  It’s going to be okay.”  She bent down to place a quick kiss to his forehead.  “I love you.  Try to relax.”

“Love you too," he said.

***

Joe Fox had just walked into _The Shop Around the Corner_ for story time with his 11-year old Aunt Annabel and his 4-year old half-brother Matt when Natasha returned with a mug of chicken and stars soup and steaming cup of chamomile tea.  Bucky tried to sit up on his own but struggled with the heavy prosthetic hanging lifelessly at his side.  He cursed under his breath, his sadness suddenly giving way to anger and frustration.

“Fuck.  I can’t do this anymore, Nat,” he groused as he eventually managed to get himself in an upright position.  She sat next to him and gave him an understanding nod.

“I know,” she said.  “Eat.  Take a nap.  Then we’ll get you cleaned up and head to S.I.  You don’t want to wait to take care of that until Tony gets back, do you?” she asked, her eyes darting towards the broken limb.

Bucky accepted the mug of soup and took a sip.  “No,” he said quietly.  “My back and shoulder are starting to hurt.”

Natasha frowned, placed the tea on the coffee table and relaxed into the cushions.  They sat there in companionable silence, watching Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks flirt sweetly with each other online while Bucky dutifully drank his soup.  When Natasha heard him yawn, she took the nearly empty mug and helped him burrow back under the blanket.  Bucky wanted to ask about Steve.  If she’d heard from him or knew how he was doing.  He opened his mouth to do just that before thinking better of it.

“’m tired,” he said instead, realizing that he wasn’t really ready to hear that Steve wanted nothing more to do with him.

“Rest,” she replied quietly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

A moment later Bucky was snoring softly, his pallid face finally looking at ease.  As soon as Natasha was sure he was out, she got up and went to the kitchen to call Sam.

“Hey baby.  How’s Sarge doin’?”

“Not good,” she answered.  “The arm’s completely useless and it’s starting to hurt his back.  On top of that, he had a pretty nasty panic attack this morning.  I haven’t seen him this bad since those first few weeks when he came home from Afghanistan.”

“Shit,” Sam huffed.

“Yeah.  I’m worried about him,” she said peering back into the living room to check on her sleeping friend.  “How’s Steve?  You still at his?”

“Yeah.  He ended up with five stitches right above his eyebrow.  Good thing he was able to duck when he did; an inch lower and he could’ve lost an eye.  As it is, once it heals up I doubt anyone will even notice the scar.  Tell Barnes not to worry, his boyfriend’s face is as stupidly handsome as it ever was.”

“Why can’t Steve just do that himself?” she asked.

“I’m sure he’d love to.  Boy’s been out cold since he popped two pain pills last night.  Snoring like a fuckin’ tornado in a cave.  I think I slept a total of ten minutes all night,” Sam lamented with a yawn.

“Poor baby,” Natasha drawled before letting loose a yawn of her own.  “Bucky’s napping now too.  I think I might just snuggle up next to him and catch a couple winks myself.  Maybe you should do the same.”

“First of all,” Sam replied, “I am _not_ cuddling up with Cap.  Secondly, I might start hatin’ Barnes for gettin’ cozy with my girl.  If he wasn’t in such a ‘fragile’ state…”

“Awww…don’t be jealous, babe,” the redhead interrupted.  “Just go get some rest so I can have my wicked way with you later tonight.  Don’t want you fallin’ asleep on me while I’m sitting on your face.”

Sam coughed and sputtered.  “Jesus, Nat.  You can’t just say things like that to a horny, sleep deprived man.  I nearly choked on my damn coffee.”

“Sorry,” Nat chuckled.  “I do admire how you put ‘horny’ before ‘sleep deprived’ though.  That’s my man.”

“Soooooo…what time you think you’ll be heading to my place then?” he asked eagerly.

“Not sure.  I’m taking James to Stark Industries after he wakes up to have the prosthetic removed.  I’ll text you when we get back.  I don’t want to leave him until I’m sure he’s alright.”

“You’re a good friend, Nat,” Sam said sincerely.

“So are you.  Give Steve my best when he comes to, okay?  And please have him call James.  I’m pretty sure he thinks Steve hates him.”

“Good grief,” Sam said.  “These two fools are gonna give me an ulcer.  In his meds-induced haze, Rogers kept going between blaming himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to Bucky in his entire life and blubbering on about his undying love for the dude.  I was beyond relieved when he finally passed the fuck out.  Well, at least I was until the snoring started.”

Natasha hummed in empathy.  “Nurturing broken souls is exhausting.  I’m off to nap.  See you later.”

“Alright.  Love you, Nat.”

“Love you too,” she answered.  She hung up, silenced her phone and stealthily slotted herself next to her slumbering friend.  Natasha wrapped a protective arm over Bucky’s waist and placed a sweet kiss on his shoulder as she nestled in.

“Steve,” Bucky murmured in his sleep.

Nat gave his middle a little squeeze in response, smiling at the contented hum Bucky made before settling in and drifting off to sleep.

***

The trip to Stark Industries later that day was unusually dull and painfully tedious without Tony’s infectious energy and witty repartee to distract Bucky from the task at hand.  The doctor, Helen Cho, who’d given up a part of her Saturday afternoon to assist Bucky in Tony’s stead was quiet, professional and kind.  She worked as quickly as possible to remove the defunct prosthetic, only speaking to Bucky as needed to give the despondent brunet some warning of what she was going to do before she actually did it.

Meanwhile, Natasha wandered about the lab, studying the impressive array of tools and surreal technologies that populated the sleek, surgically clean space.  She pulled her phone out of her pocket to snap a few quick pics as evidence that she’d actually been to the future when an eerily calm and familiar warm voice rang out in the room.

“I’m sorry Miss Romanoff, but photography of any kind is strictly forbidden within this facility.  Please refrain from opening the camera application on your device or I shall be forced to disable it for you.”

Natasha jumped and nearly dropped her phone, before shaking her head in disgust.

“Told you,” she groused as she slipped her phone back into her pocket.  “Skynet.”

Twenty minutes later, the procedure was finished and Bucky’s left sleeve was empty once more.

“Mr. Stark would like to ask you some questions regarding the incident when he returns to town next week if that’d be alright,” Dr. Cho said as she placed the prosthetic onto a long metal table.

Bucky didn’t answer.  He stood and stared at the shiny, lifeless limb, clearly lost in his thoughts.  Natasha took him by the hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Thank you for your help today, Dr. Cho.  I’m sure Bucky and Steve would be happy to answer any questions that Mr. Stark might have.”

The two women chatted for a few minutes more before Natasha led Bucky away.  Outside of the ‘thank you’ he mumbled to the kind doctor as they left the lab, he said nothing more as they made their way out of the building and onto the crowded midtown street.  The sun had just set and there was a bone-numbing chill to the air.

“C’mon,” Natasha told him as they wove through the roving sea of humanity.  “Our Uber’s here.”

After Natasha gave the driver the address she sat back and nudged Bucky with her knee.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered unconvincingly.

“Are you going over to Steve’s tonight?” she pushed.

Bucky winced slightly at the mention of Steve’s name.  Natasha probably would’ve missed it in the darkened car if she hadn’t been looking for a reaction.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m sure he’ll be dying to see you as soon as he emerges from his Vicodin-induced coma,” Nat said encouragingly.

Bucky only hummed in response and turned to stare out the window.  He tugged on his empty sleeve and twisted the fabric in his fist.  “Don’t think I’d be very good company right now.”

Natasha frowned and leaned her head on his shoulder.  “Okay then,” she said.  “How ‘bout I order a pizza and we can watch Pride and Prejudice?  The Keira Knightley version of course.”

“Thanks, but I meant that I wouldn’t be good company for anyone.  Even you,” Bucky replied. Before she had a chance to protest he added, “It’s been a rough couple a days, Nat.  I really just want to crawl back into my bed and try get some sleep.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered as the car stopped in front of his building.  He gave his best friend a peck on the cheek before opening the door.  “Thanks for everything.  Give my best to Sam.”

With that, Bucky closed the door.  Natasha stared at her friend through the window, waving goodbye as the car pulled away from the curb.

***

Bucky was immediately reminded of just how hard it was to complete the simplest of tasks with only one arm.  He dropped his keys twice as he fumbled to open the door to his apartment.  Once inside, he struggled to unzip and remove his coat, thrashing about just to shake it off.  When it landed on the floor he kicked at it in frustration, leaving a dirty shoe print on the black wool as he sent it sailing towards the corner of the room.  A couple months with the prosthetic and he’d seemingly lost all of the single-handed dexterity he’d developed over the years.

He vaguely thought that he should probably eat something, but hunger was the first thing to go when he was in a mood like this, and he’d convinced himself that preparing even the simplest of dinners would inevitably turn into an epically frustrating shit show.  He’d decided to starve in peace instead.  He didn’t even bother turning on the TV as he dropped down onto the couch.  He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling waiting for either the pain of being him to stop or for the world to come to an end.  Bucky suspected the end of the world would probably happen first.

From across the room, where his coat was lying in a heap, came the muffled ring of Bucky’s phone.  He couldn’t make out the ring tone though through the pile of wool it was trapped in.  He struggled to his feet, ran to the coat, and shook the phone out just in time for the ringing to stop.  He also shook the phone out of the coat in such a way that it went crashing to the floor.  Bucky again flung the coat away and snatched the phone from the ground, only to find that the fall, or rather the landing, had spectacularly shattered the screen.  Through the spider-web of cracked glass lines the phone read “Missed Call”, but before Bucky could unlock the phone and see who had called, the battery died.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he seethed.

He stalked into his kitchen, set the phone on the counter against the wall to brace it, and quickly shoved the charger into the port.  The “snap” he heard was instant and loud.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he growled again.  “No no no no no…”  Bucky yanked the charger out and peered into the port on the bottom of the phone.  The pins that connect the phone to the charger were gone.  He grabbed the charger.  The broken pins were jutting out from it.

“GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!” he screamed.  He whipped the phone against the wall, swearing again as it exploded on impact.  “Fuck fuck fuck!”  Bucky dropped to his knees.  Tears welled up in his eyes.  “Fuck all of this,” he said.  “Fuck every goddamned thing.”

Once the first tear fell from his eyes a torrent followed behind, as though a dam had broken.  He collapsed on the floor, curling up in a ball, the tears forming tiny pools on the tile below him.  He wondered if the world would be better off, if Steve in particular would be better off, if he’d lost his life in Afghanistan instead of just his arm.  It didn’t take long to convince himself that it was true.  He stayed that way, curled up on the cold floor, for hours, paralyzed by his own sadness, as he forced himself to relive every traumatic event and stupid mistake he’d ever made until his mind hurt so much that all he could do was pass out from the stress and exhaustion.

The night was long, and dark, and fitful for Bucky.  It was longer and darker still for the people who loved him but couldn’t reach him to tell him so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!! Again, I implore you not to hate me. Though I invite you to go and yell at me in the comments...I admittedly deserve it. Know that it was very painful for me to even write this. I hate hurt hurting Bucky and Steve!!!
> 
> Next chapter, things will get better. Much better. For both of them. You have my word. Wishing you all the best for a happy, healthy and prosperous 2017!


	16. A Time for Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the depths of despair, Bucky tries one last time to push Steve away. He should've known better that his gorgeous, amazing, stubborn boyfriend wouldn't give up on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well... would you look at this? Another new chapter and it hasn't even been a full month since I posted the last one! Okay, I know that might not be something to really brag about but I'm super proud of myself for committing to write something nearly everyday (sticking to those New Year's Resolutions!!). And I'm super excited to share this fluffy, smutty, full-of-feels installment with you. I hope you all enjoy it!

“How you feelin’, man?” Sam asked when Steve walked into his office early the following morning.

“Better, I guess,” Steve answered distractedly.  He was scrolling through his phone with a deeply furrowed brow.

“I hate to tell you this bud, but you don’t really look any better.  I mean, your cut looks fine but the rest of you?  Not so good.”

“I can’t get ahold of Bucky,” Steve replied, rubbing a hand over his weary face and wincing with pain when he carelessly pulled on his stitches.  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to blink back the tears that were already forming as he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“He’s not answering my calls and his phone rolls directly to voicemail after the second ring,” Steve said with a shaky voice.  “I must’ve texted him 100 times and he hasn’t replied to a single message.”

Natasha walked in.  She looked nearly as exhausted as Steve did and her expression was etched with worry.  “Mine either,” she said with a sigh.  “When I left him off at his place yesterday, he said he was tired and wanted to be alone but…”

“Something’s wrong,” Steve interrupted.

Just then, the anxious friends were interrupted by the sudden sound of Kylie’s voice breaking over the club’s intercom system.  “Steve Rogers, you have a call on Line 1.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide with fear as he picked up the handset of his desk phone and handed it over to Steve.  Steve placed the receiver up to his ear and nodded for Sam to connect the call.

“Steve Rogers,” he answered.

“Steve?” a vaguely familiar female voice came over the line.  “It’s Becca Barnes.  I’m so sorry to bother you at work but I’ve been trying to reach my brother.  Does he happen to be with you by chance?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” Steve answered.  “I, um…I’m sorry but I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”

“Well, do you at least know where he is?” she asked.  “Because the little shit isn’t answering me.  If he isn’t in trouble, he’s certainly going to be,” she added, aiming for lighthearted but falling flat as the concern came through in her voice.

Steve’s pulse was racing a mile a minute as his mind began to imagine the worst.

“I’m sorry Becca, but I have to go,” Steve said abruptly.  “I’ll be sure to have Bucky call you,” he added sounding way more confident than he felt as he handed the receiver to Natasha.  As Nat greeted her friend over the phone and began to explain what she knew, Steve looked at Sam with panicked, pleading eyes.

“Go.  I’ve got this,” his boss asserted, referring to the full slate of clients that would need to be rescheduled in Steve’s absence.  “You call us as soon as you know anything, ya hear?”

Steve nodded his thanks and sprinted out of the club.

***

“Bucky?” Steve called as he knocked on Bucky’s door.  He’d gotten to Bucky’s apartment so fast it was though he’d been teleported.  He needed to see Bucky.  Now.

“Bucky!  Steve yelled this time as he pounded his fist against the door.

“Hey pal,” Steve heard an irritated voice call from down the hall.  “You mind keepin’ it down over there?  Some of us are tryin’ to sleep.”

Steve pounded his fist harder against the door in response, too concerned about his boyfriend to mind his manners.  “Bucky!  Are you in there?”

“Asshole,” the annoyed neighbor muttered before retreating back into his apartment.

Inside Bucky’s apartment, the brunet jolted awake in the fetal position he’d fallen asleep in on the cold, hard kitchen floor.  He groaned as his pushed his aching body up off of the linoleum.  He had a pounding headache that was only made worse by the loud thudding on his front door.

“Go away, Steve,” he yelled.  “I’m fine.”

Steve was stunned still by the sound of Bucky’s voice.  His initial elation and relief soon gave way to confusion and pain when he’d realized the words that Bucky had said.  Steve leaned his forehead against the door and took a calming breath.

“Open the door, Bucky.  Please.  I need to see you,” he implored.

Bucky hobbled towards his door so he wouldn’t have to shout.  “No, Steve,” he said gruffly.  “You don’t.  Nobody does.  I—I’m sorry you got hurt.  Sorry I fucked everything up.”  Bucky’s voice began to quaver.  “You’re a good man, Steve.  Too good for me.  You deserve to be with someone better.  ‘M sorry you wasted your time.”

Steve listened patiently.  As he did, the sadness he’d been feeling just a moment ago, quickly dissolved into disbelief and anger.

“Open the door, Buck,” Steve commanded.

Bucky whined aloud.  “Just go, Steve.  Please.  I can’t--… I’m not strong enough to do this right now.”

“Open.  The.  Door.”

Bucky looked through the peephole.  Steve was staring right into it with that determined, take-no-prisoners look he wore whenever he was working through a set at the club.  Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.  Laser focused on achieving his goal.  God, he looked so fucking hot.

“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” Bucky tried once more.

Steve wasn’t having any of it.

“I swear to Christ, if you don’t open this goddamn door right _now_ I’m gonna kick the fucking thing down.”  He took two steps back, apparently positioning himself to do just that.  When Bucky didn’t answer, Steve gave one last warning.

“Step back, Buck.  I’m coming in.”

There was a small, peculiar part of Bucky that really wanted to watch Steve kick his down door like the heroic beast that he was.  The slightly more rational, disappointing part of his brain knew it’d be an expensive and inconvenient show—no matter how intense and thrilling it might be.  With a resigned huff, he reached for the deadbolt and shouted for Steve to stop.

“Wait!” he yelled.  “I’m opening the door.  Don’t kick me!”

As soon as Bucky cracked the door open a hair, Steve rushed to push it in and burst inside.

“St—” Bucky started before the blond all but tackled him in the doorway.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” he said with a rush of obvious relief into the other man’s neck.  “I was so fuckin’ worried.”

Bucky couldn’t stop the sob that gurgled out of his throat as Steve pulled him impossibly close.  Steve raked his fingers through Bucky’s tangled locks, massaging his scalp as he placed gentle kisses on the top of his head.  It was as if he needed to touch and smell the man in his arms.  Needed to convince himself that Bucky was really there—alive and breathing.

Steve’s voice warbled as the tears began to flow down his own cheeks as well.  “Why didn’t you answer my calls?  Or reply to my texts?” he cried.

Bucky shook his head in shame and burrowed his face into Steve’s broad chest.

“Broken,” he muttered as he inhaled deeply, filling his nostrils with Steve’s familiar, clean smell.

“You have to stop saying that, Buck,” Steve huffed, his tears giving way to frustration.  “You are _not_ broken.”

Bucky actually chuckled at that and took step back out of Steve’s embrace.  He looked into Steve’s sad, tear-filled eyes and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“I am broken, Steve,” he said.  “But, I was actually talking about my phone this time,” he added with a sniffle and a shrug.  “The battery died when I got home last night and when I tried to plug it in, the prongs broke off in the port.  I was so pissed, I threw the fuckin’ thing against the wall.  It’s in pieces in my kitchen,” Bucky explained.  “That’s why I didn’t answer you.  I’m sorry I worried you.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.  “I’m so sorry, Buck.  I shouldn’t have assumed that you meant…”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted.  “Stop.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  You never do anything wrong.  It’s me.”  Bucky sighed heavily, his heart and his limbs growing tired again.  He trudged towards the couch and sat down on one end.  Steve stayed by the door.

“C’mon,” Bucky said.  “We need to talk.”

Steve nodded in agreement, kicked off his shoes and strode towards the kitchen.  Bucky just watched in silence as Steve worked quickly and quietly to put a kettle of water on to boil for tea and dropped a couple of slices of bread into Bucky’s antiquated toaster.

Bucky pulled his trusty blanket over his lap and took a deep breath.  How was he supposed to let the best thing that’d ever happened in his life just walk away?  He understood why Steve had been worried.  He would’ve been too if their situations had been reversed.  But now that the sweet, sexy, perfect blond knew that Bucky was alright—physically at least—he was surely going to want nothing more to do with Bucky.  At least not romantically.  Steve was the kind of guy who’d say he’d still want to be friends and also the kind of guy who would actually mean it.  Problem was, Bucky wasn’t so sure that he could.  The thought of the kind, caring trainer standing in someone else’s kitchen, slathering _their_ toast with butter and jam—adorably stopping to suck an errant glob of jam from the tip of his thumb, made Bucky’s heart ache so badly he could hardly breathe.  He tried to memorize the dreamily domestic scene, so when he was once again alone; he could at least have a solid image in his mind of a time when he was happy for once.  Really, truly happy.

Steve pulled a cookie sheet out of Bucky’s cupboard and used it as a makeshift tray, loading it up with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate piled with a tall stack of toast.  He placed it on the coffee table and sat next to Bucky.  Bucky eyed the loaf of bread before him and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Carb loading today?” he teased.  Steve smiled shyly in return as he picked a piece of the toast up and held it up to Bucky’s lips.

“Eat,” Steve said.

Bucky leaned forward and took a small bite.  It was the best damn toast he’d ever tasted.  He opened wider and took a bigger bite, humming contentedly as he chewed.  Steve grinned, looking pleased as punch by the brunet’s reaction before popping the remaining piece of crust into his own mouth.  He handed Bucky a mug of tea and fed him another piece of toast, then scooted closer to him on the couch.  He placed a big, warm hand on Bucky’s thigh.

“Feeling better?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered.  And he really was.  All of the coldness, the aches and pains that he’d felt when he’d awoken had begun to melt away in the warmth of Steve’s presence.  “Thank you.”

Steve took a sip of his own tea and nodded.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Buck,” he said ruefully.  He turned to look Bucky in the eyes.  “I should’ve been there with you at S.I.  I should’ve been here with you when you needed me most.  I’m so sorry.  I’m a shit boyfriend, I know.  But I— I hope you can forgive me.”

Bucky nearly choked on his toast.  “Are you kidding me right now?” he squeaked.  But Steve wasn’t done.

“What happened that night, Buck.  It wasn’t your fault.  Those assholes were looking for a fight.  They got one.  And the arm… it was a prototype.  It malfunctioned.”

“I know,” Bucky said.  “But I did it.  I almost killed him Steve!  If it wasn’t for you and Sam, I’d be sitting in a jail cell right now instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself.  Knowing that I fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  Wondering how I’m going to move on with my life without you in it.”

Steve’s expression softened as he cupped the brunet’s lightly-stubbled cheek in his hand.  “You don’t have to,” he said.  “I’m not going anywhere, Buck.  As long as you’ll have me, I want to be with you.  I love you.”

Bucky knew that he was being selfish.  A greedy, unprincipled man.  He knew that he should protest more.  Try to push Steve away because Steve deserved so much more than Bucky could ever hope to give him.  But as he stared into the other man’s incredible blue eyes—so full of love and hope—he completely lost the will to fight the desires of his own heart.  Bucky closed his eyes and leaned into Steve’s touch.

“I love you too,” he whispered before planting a chaste kiss to the inside of Steve’s wrist.  When he opened his eyes again, Steve was there.  Leaning in to press his lips to Bucky’s in a soft, sweet kiss.  Bucky drank it in like a dying man in the desert, moaning softly at the sensation he was certain, only moments ago, he might never experience again.  Steve moaned back in response as he deepened the kiss, licking into Bucky’s welcoming mouth.  When they pulled apart with wet, reddened lips and pupils blown black, Bucky knew he had to take a step back before they got too carried away.

“I want you so badly right now,” Bucky said, as he rested his forehead against Steve’s.  “But I feel really gross.  I haven’t showered in two days,” he confessed.  “And I slept in a puddle of my own tears on the kitchen floor last night.”

Steve had the decency not to laugh at Bucky’s admission though the wide grin he wore in response suggested it was a near thing.  Instead, he kissed the tip of Bucky’s nose and stood up.

“Let me draw you a bath,” he said as he helped Bucky up.

“That sounds really nice,” Bucky replied, wrapping his arm around Steve’s trim waist for support as they made their way down the hall.  Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot a quick text off to Sam as they walked.  The message was simple:  **_I’m at Bucky’s.  We’re okay._**   Sam replied in an instant, expressing his relief and gratitude as well as his promise to notify Nat and Becca.  Bucky didn’t try to hide the fact that he was reading Steve’s screen.  He uttered a sheepish ‘Thanks’ after Steve slipped the phone back into his pocket, knowing full well there’d still be hell to pay for making his sister and his best friend worry so.

Bucky stood on aching legs as he watched Steve fiddle with the faucet knobs, still unsure how he’d gotten so lucky.  Against all odds, Steve still loved him.  Still wanted to be with him.  A warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought, as he gazed adoringly at the preoccupied blond.  When Steve turned around and caught him staring with hearts in his eyes, he smiled shyly.

“Ready?” Steve asked as he took a step closer to the enamored brunet.  Bucky nodded and reached for the bottom hem of his t-shirt.  Steve placed a gentle hand on his wrist to stop him.  “Let me,” he said.  Steve took his time undressing Bucky.  Carefully removing each piece of clothing, and placing soft, reverent kisses along each newly revealed stretch of bare skin.  He left a trail of goosebumps in his wake as he went.  A teasing touch over a sensitive nipple, a gentle kiss on a protruding hip bone…it was completely intoxicating to watch Steve worship his body with such care.  Steve knelt down to work open the buttons of Bucky’s jeans, looking up to meet his steel-grey gaze as he popped each one open.  Then he tugged the second-skin denim and boxer briefs down Bucky’s toned thighs in one fell swoop.  His cock sprang free and bobbed in front of Steve’s face—long and thick and hard as could be.  Steve placed a lingering kiss to the plump, reddened tip as he worked to help Bucky step fully out of his pants.  Every muscle in Bucky’s body twitched in response, like a live wire crackling with unfettered energy.

Steve stood up then and stepped close to Bucky.  “So beautiful,” he whispered before leaning in to kiss his lips.  Bucky whimpered softly when Steve broke the kiss, the slight distance between them suddenly feeling much too far.

“Let me take care of you,” Steve said with another peck on the lips.  “Like I should’ve done before.”  Another kiss.  “Like I promise to from this moment forward.”

Bucky fought the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes once more.  He’d spent so much time crying the last couple of days.  And even though the tears that threatened to come now were ones of pure relief and elation, he didn’t want to tarnish this moment.  So, he swallowed down the lump in his throat, grabbed Steve’s offered hand and stepped into the tub.

Bucky sighed contentedly as he settled in.  The steaming water enveloped him like a warm, liquid blanket, immediately soothing his aching body.  He slid down in the water and closed his eyes, silently lamenting that they weren’t at Steve’s place, where the tub was so massive that both men could comfortably fit in it without anyone’s knees or feet sticking out.

While Bucky relaxed, Steve peeled off his warm-up jacket and the tight, white Rally t-shirt he’d worn underneath and hung them on the doorknob.  Then he knelt down on the floor next to the tub and lathered up a shower puff with a generous amount of Bucky’s citrus-scented shower gel.  He started with Bucky’s feet, gently sudsing the soles before scrubbing each heel with a bit more force.  Bucky moaned in pleasure, torn between closing his eyes to just enjoy the sensations and keeping them focused on Steve’s beautiful, bare torso and incredibly handsome face.

“Relax, baby,” Steve encouraged as he dropped the puff into the water in favor of massaging Bucky’s calves with his bare hands instead.  Bucky couldn’t help but obey as he felt the tension and stress that’d been seizing his body literally evaporate like the wisps of steam that surrounded him under Steve’s tender touch.  As Steve worked, Bucky found himself relaxing completely, nearly to the point of falling asleep.  Even so, Bucky’s arousal never ebbed as Steve slowly caressed and washed every inch of his body.  The whole experience was so damn sensual, he felt like he was ever riding on the edge ecstasy.  He didn’t want it to end, yet he could hardly wait for Steve to finish his task.  To get this incredible man completely naked and solidly on top of him in his bed.

After Steve had carefully shampooed and rinsed Bucky’s hair, the blond stood up to drain the water and give the brunet a hand out of the tub.  Bucky stared hungrily at the massive tent in the front of his track pants and realized that Steve had probably been hard for as long as Bucky had been.  But he never once hurried his pace, ignoring the pull of his own desires in favor of spoiling Bucky.  As soon as Steve had wrapped a towel around his shoulders, Bucky surged forward to give him a kiss.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered as he stepped fully, dripping wet, into Steve’s warm embrace.  Steve rubbed the towel over Bucky’s hair before placing another kiss to the top of his head.

“I think I might’ve actually enjoyed that more than you,” Steve replied with a smirk.

Bucky nuzzled his nose into the side of Steve’s neck then suckled gently on the soft skin there.  He trailed his lips up to Steve’s ear, teasing the lobe with the tip of his tongue.  “Not possible,” he replied huskily before kissing his way along Steve’s strong jawbone and back to his waiting, parted lips.  Steve dropped the towel to the floor and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist to pull the other man closer.

“Fuck, Steve,” he groaned as they rocked their hips together.  “Take me to bed now.  Please.”

Steve didn’t say a word.  Instead, he attacked Bucky’s mouth again, kissing him within an inch of his life before bending down to scoop him up in his ridiculously strong arms.  Bucky squealed with surprise and giggled with delight as he wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist and held tight to his thick neck with his one and only arm.  Steve backed out of the narrow doorway and carried his naked, wet boyfriend the short distance to the bedroom.  He laid Bucky down gently on the middle of the mattress and took a step back to shed the rest of his own clothes.

No matter how many times Bucky had seen Steve naked, his brain still seemed to have a hard time accepting that this perfect specimen of a man would willing strip down just so he could have sex with him.  He didn’t have a lot of time to contemplate his literal and figurative good fucking fortunes because the moment the last stitch of Steve’s clothing hit the floor, the gorgeously ripped trainer crawled up onto the bed, caging Bucky safely beneath him.  Steve slotted their flushed, chiseled bodies together aligning their hardened lengths.  Bucky pressed their lips together as he rocked his hips up off of the mattress, sliding his thick cock hotly against his lover’s.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbled against Bucky’s lips, mimicking the motion in kind and thrusting desperately in search of more contact.  More friction.  More everything.  Bucky moaned into Steve’s mouth as they made out feverishly and rutted against one another like two dogs in heat.  Bucky was already teetering on the edge of release and they’d only just gotten started.

“Mmmmm…” Steve hummed into the crook of Bucky’s neck before nipping his sensitive flesh with his teeth.  “Feels so good,” he added breathily as he reached between their undulating bodies with one big, calloused hand.  Steve wrapped his long fingers around both of their rock hard erections and began to stroke them off together.  Bucky whimpered and arched his back off of the mattress, thrusting powerfully into Steve’s grasp.

“Steve,” he moaned.  “Wait.”

Steve stopped in an instant, releasing his grip and putting a little distance between them.  Steve’s eyes instinctively roamed over his boyfriend’s body, clearly searching for any obvious signs of injury, illness or distress.  Bucky felt like he might swoon from the gesture.  The way Steve looked at him, cared for him, loved him was so incredible, Bucky couldn’t stop himself from letting the other man know.

“I love you,” he declared suddenly.

Steve blinked twice in surprised before a beautiful grin spread across his face.  He leaned back down to give Bucky a kiss.  A soft, sweet, warm press of lips.

“I know,” Steve replied.  “I love you too, babe.”  Steve peppered more kisses over his eyes, the tip of his nose and once again on his lips.  “Is that why you wanted me to stop?” he asked amusedly.

“No,” Bucky answered.  “I wanted you to stop because I was five seconds away from cumming in your hand and I didn’t want that to happen.  I wanna cum on your cock.”

Steve’s eyes seemed to grow impossibly darker as he dropped his head back with moan, exposing the long, pale column of his throat.  “Fuck, I want that too,” he said, rocking his hips to punctuate the point.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Bucky taunted.  “Night stand.  Top drawer.”

Steve huffed a choked off laugh and shook his head, his expression colored with… disappointment?

“I wanted to take my time with you tonight,” Steve explained.  “Make love to you nice and slow.  The way you deserve.”

Bucky curled up slightly to give Steve a kiss, draping his hand over the nape of his neck and scratching his fingernails through the soft, short hairs there.  He murmured against Steve’s slightly chapped lips between slow, sinful kisses.  “I don’t really deserve you at all.  But--” he interjected before Steve could protest, “I do know what I want.  And what I want right now is for you to fuck me.  Hard and deep and fast.”

Steve growled in response, delving into Bucky’s mouth with a palpable flare of passion that made Bucky shiver with anticipation.  “I need you now, Steve,” Bucky whimpered.  “Please.”

Steve broke their kiss only long enough to grab the lube and condoms from the nightstand, popping open the bottle of lube to coat the fingers of his right hand liberally.  “I’ve got you, baby,” Steve promised as he reached down between Bucky’s wide-spread legs.  He circled two slick fingertips gently over the tightly furled ring of muscle as he let his eyes wander worshipfully over Bucky’s pliant body.

“God Bucky, you’re so gorgeous like this,” he said, his voice low and ragged.  “So needy and eager for me.”

Any response that Bucky might’ve thought to say dried up on his lips the moment Steve slid one long finger inside of his tight, hot channel.  Instead, he moaned out in pleasure, bearing down on Steve’s digit in an effort to pull it in deeper.  “Yessssssssss,” Bucky hissed as his eyelids fluttered shut.  “More.”

“Okay, baby,” Steve assured, pulling back to add a second finger.  He thrust them both shallowly at first before pushing in deeper, massaging his fingertips over Bucky’s prostate with surgical accuracy.  Bucky jerked at the sudden burst of pleasure that rippled through his body.  His cock twitched hard, smacking against his stomach, the tip wet and shiny from the pre-cum that was now dribbling freely out of the slit.  Steve couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and take a taste, lapping his tongue over Bucky’s cockhead and pulling a primal groan out of his beautiful boyfriend.  Bolstered by Bucky’s reaction, Steve dipped the tip of his tongue down into the slit, probing it gently as his hot breath ghosted over Bucky’s member.  He was rewarded with another sticky bead of pre-cum, bursting on his taste buds.  Bucky’s back arched up off of the mattress at the same his hand flew down to grab onto Steve’s head.  He was completely torn in that moment between pushing Steve down to choke on his cock or pushing him away to keep the tenuous hold on his orgasm intact.  He needed Steve inside of him.  _Now_.

“I’m ready,” he said, gently pulling on Steve’s hair.  He patted the covers wildly until he found the condom he knew was close by.  Bucky practically threw the foil packet at the top of Steve’s head, anxious for the blond to slip it on and fill him up.  Steve popped off of Bucky’s cock, lips red and shiny with spit, skin flushed pink and hair totally wrecked.  He looked so fucking sexy, it took Bucky’s breath away.

Steve withdrew his fingers quickly and pushed himself up to kneel between Bucky’s thighs.  Bucky watched raptly as Steve rolled the condom carefully down over his big, beautiful, perfect dick.  He wanted to scold his lover for taking so long but he knew that Steve was putting on a show, driving him crazy with the way he touched himself, drizzling the lube down over his cock like it was some kind of topping for a sinful ice cream sundae.  Bucky hooked his ankles around the back of Steve’s strong legs and pulled him closer as the blond stroked his hardened length a few times before grabbing himself steadily at the base.  Steve inched forward and leaned down, rubbing the slick, full head of his cock gently over Bucky’s puckered rim.

“Wish you could see this,” Steve said, his voice low and gravelly.  “So fuckin’ hot watching your tiny hole take my cock in like you were made just for me.  You always take me so good, baby.”

Bucky moaned as he felt the blunt tip breach his rim, the burning stretch setting his nerves on fire.  Despite his longing to have Steve pound him into the mattress, Bucky was grateful for the way his boyfriend always entered him slowly, giving the brunet’s body a chance to adjust to and relax around the girth and length of Steve’s imposing cock.  It was the most pleasurable pain Bucky had ever known and it turned his bones to jelly every time.

“Almost there,” Steve panted as he gripped Bucky’s hips, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over protruding pelvic bones.  When he’d finally bottomed out and Bucky could feel the warm skin of Steve’s muscular thighs resting against the meat of his own ass, Bucky closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and mindfully willed his body to relax.

“You’re so good for me,” Steve praised as he slowly trailed his hands away from Bucky’s hips, tracing the topography of his muscled torso up to his hardened nipples.  He pinched the peaked buds between his fingertips making Bucky gasp.  “You like that, baby?” Steve asked, fully aware that it drove Bucky wild.

Bucky shuddered and bit his bottom lip, giving Steve the heavy-lidded, ‘sex face’ he knew would drive the blond bonkers in return.  Then just for fun he clenched his ass, making his already tight channel clamp down all around Steve’s fully sheathed cock.  Steve’s eyes grew wide as he grunted like the wind had just been punched from his lungs.  “Holy shit!” he wheezed much to Bucky’s amusement.

“You like that, baby?” the brunet drawled, smug smirk firmly in place at the corner of his irresistible lips.

Apparently that was all the prodding Steve needed.

“Oh, I’ll show you what I like,” he replied with a devilish grin.  With that, Steve pulled his hips back very slowly, withdrawing his cock inch-by-inch until only the head remained inside.  Then he slammed back in so hard he jolted Bucky up the bed, making the other man howl with pleasure.

“Fuck yeah!” Bucky shouted as he wound his fist in the bedspread beneath them, holding on tight as he waited for the next, inevitably relentless thrust.  Steve didn’t disappoint.  He plowed into Bucky hard and fast and deep—just like his boyfriend had asked him to do.

Bucky dimly worried about disturbing his neighbors with the symphony of wholly loud and pornographic noises the pair of them were making as Steve fucked him mercilessly into the mattress.  Between the head board banging rhythmically against the wall, the worn down bedsprings squeaking with every dip and thrust, the impressively loud, obscene smacking sound of Steve’s heavy balls against Bucky’s tight ass, and the increasingly frantic chorus of impassioned moans and shouted expletives—there could be no doubt about exactly what was happening in Unit 4B.  But as Steve nailed his prostate with every drive of his hips, Bucky decided right then he really didn’t give a fuck.

“Holy shit,” Bucky panted.  “You feel so good, Stevie.  I’m so close.”

Steve subconsciously snapped his hips even harder and growled with pleasure as he blinked the sweat out of his eyes.  He reached down to cradle Bucky’s bouncing cock in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb over the glossy head, eliciting a sharp hiss from his lover.  Bucky keened in pleasure when Steve began to stroke him in earnest, moving his hand in time with his thrusts.

“You gonna cum on my cock now, baby?” Steve asked between punctuated grunts.  “Can’t wait to feel you explode.  Feel you squeeze my dick hard in that tight, perfect ass.  Watch you make a pretty mess all over yourself.”

If being nearly split in half by Steve’s glorious, ramrod cock _and_ having Steve stroke Bucky’s dick like a boy scout trying to start a fire wasn’t enough to have the brunet spouting off like an uncapped fire hydrant, then the Captain’s filthy words of encouragement were more than enough to finish the job.

“Fuck, Steve,” Bucky huffed as cock grew stiffer and his vision began to blur.  “Keep talkin’.”

Steve bit his bottom lip and moaned aloud.  “God, you turn me on so fuckin’ much, Buck.  I wanna make you scream my name.  Let everyone in this entire goddamn building know who you belong to.  Who you’re spreading that perfect ass for.  Who’s fucking you into next we—”

“Steve!” Bucky shouted as his body jolted up on the mattress and his cock erupted in Steve’s grasp.  Spurt after spurt of his thick, hot release shot out of the tip, painting his stomach and chest with a splattering of cum.  As he lost himself in the throes of his orgasm, body on autopilot—clenching down and around Steve’s cock—Steve worked him through it.  Grazing his prostate with every thrust and stroking Bucky’s pulsing dick to the verge of oversensitive.

“Oh god, Bucky,” Steve panted as his thrusts lost some of their previous rhythm.  “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

Bucky blinked dazedly up at his stunningly beautiful boyfriend.  “I wanna see it,” Bucky said.  “Taste it.”

Steve moaned and quickly pulled out.  He knelt up on the bed, peeled the condom off and tossed it to the floor.  He began to stroke his cock while he shifted closer to Bucky, taking purposeful aim at the brunet’s chest and wide open mouth.

“Fuck!” Steve yelled as he climaxed, adding his bountiful release to the mass of droplets already dotting Bucky’s abs and chest.  Bucky curled up to catch some on his tongue, humming in satisfaction at the salty sweet taste.  Steve dropped his head back and closed his eyes as he caught his breath and his body began to unwind and relax.

“Well,” Bucky said with a tone of amusement as he studied the mixed mess of cum cooling covering his smooth, heated skin.  “I’m a dirty boy.  Again.”

Steve leaned down to steal a kiss and mumbled against his lips, “ _My_ dirty boy.”

Bucky chuckled.  “Yeah well, I don’t think anyone else is gonna want me like this.”

“That’s fine with me,” Steve teased.  “ _But_ , I’d be happy to give you another bath if you’d like.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, grabbed a corner of loose sheet and began to wipe himself off.  “As much as I enjoyed that first one, my tub ain’t exactly like yours, Stevie.  That might’ve been the second time I’ve ever used it,” he admitted sheepishly.  “And after being in your amazing bath?  It kinda ruined me.”

Steve furrowed his brow for a moment before laying down next to Bucky and snuggling in close.  He snaked one arm around his waist and placed a kiss on his shoulder.

“I think I might have a solution to your problem,” Steve said after a minute.

“Take a quick shower instead?” Bucky offered.

Steve kissed Bucky’s shoulder again, huffing a warm, breathy laugh there.  “Yeah,” he said casually.  “You could do that. Orrrrrr…” he added with a pause.  “You could move in with me instead?”

Bucky tensed for a moment in Steve’s sweet embrace.  He shifted his body to be able to look the blond in the eyes.  “Are you serious?” he asked hesitantly.

Steve returned Bucky’s question with an affectionate gaze.  “Yeah,” Steve cleared his throat.  “Yes,” he said more confidently.  “I’ve actually been thinking about asking you for a little while now.  I hate it when you leave my place and I’m not sure when you might be back,” he pouted.  “I mean you know I’m crazy about you, Buck,” Steve added quietly.  “Even though we haven’t been dating that long, I’ve never felt so close with another person before.  When we’re together it just feels…right.”

Bucky swallowed loudly and looked around his shitty apartment bedroom.  His heart was racing in his chest.  He’d never lived with anyone before besides his family and his bunkmates in the Army.  When Bucky didn’t respond, Steve carded his fingers through Bucky’s sweat-dampened hair and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I love falling asleep next to you at night and waking up next to you in the morning,” Steve professed.  “I love you, Bucky.  So much.”

Any reservations Bucky’s brain had tried to supply melted away in that moment.  He wanted to be with Steve all of the time too.  He was always happy when he was with Steve.  It did feel right.  And, as he cast a glance at the cracks in his ceiling, he couldn’t deny that Steve’s place would be an unbelievable upgrade—the likes of which he’d probably never be able to afford in his lifetime otherwise.  He could practically hear Natasha threatening him with bodily harm just for taking this long to tell Steve ‘yes’.  A wry smile formed on his lips as he considered her reaction to learning the news.

“Besides,” Steve added for good measure, “my place is so big and lonely.  My bathroom would love to have you in it every day—appreciating all of its features and finishes the way it truly deserves.”

Bucky smiled and surged forward to give his ridiculous, perfect, amazing boyfriend a kiss.  Steve chuckled against his lips.  “Is that a yes?”

“Are you sure Tony won’t mind if you have a roommate?” Bucky asked, loving the way Steve’s eyes shone with hope and happiness.

“Not if that roommate is you,” he answered.

“Well then,” Bucky said, tucking an errant piece of hair behind his ear, “I would love to move in with you.”

Steve pulled him tight to his chest in an exuberant, triumphant hug, nearly squeezing the air from Bucky’s lungs.

“I love you too,” Bucky mumbled into Steve’s chest.  “And, uh, thanks for asking me today.”

“Whys that?” the blond asked.

“After the booming performance we just put on for all of my neighbors, I’m not so sure I’ll be able to look any of them in the eyes anymore.”

Steve burst out laughing.  “Oh my god.  You’re blushing!” he teased.  “Looks good on you.”  Bucky felt his cheeks burn brighter.

“Whaddya say we give ‘em encore presentation?” Steve goaded with a comical waggle of his eyebrows.  “Ya know, as a parting gift?”

Bucky shook his head and rolled on top of Steve, straddling his hips.  “Why not,” he replied, feeling ridiculously charmed and completely in love.  “Might as well go out with a bang.”

***

Bucky still had a month left on his lease.  Plenty of time to pack up his belongings and try to either sell or donate the few pieces of beloved furniture and random housewares he’d no longer need in Steve’s luxuriously appointed condo.  It was also plenty of time for Steve to try and gently convince Bucky to go meet with Tony again.  Give the experimental prosthetic and its inventor another chance.  Steve had gone to S.I. a few days after ‘The Incident’ to provide Tony with a detailed account of the sudden and shocking failure of the prototype.  Tony had run his own set of comprehensive diagnostic tests to analyze the arm itself and determine the cause of the catastrophic breakdown.  Bucky still had nightmares about what might’ve been if Steve and Sam hadn’t been able to wrench him away and loosen his lethal grip.  Nonetheless, when Happy arrived at Bucky’s office one evening to chauffeur the brunet to the lab after work, Bucky didn’t have it in him to refuse the affable man who’d gone out of his way to pick him up.  Maybe Nat had it right: Tony’s contact name really should be “Genius, Evil”.

Happy had done an enviable job distracting Bucky with all manner of genial small talk as he drove them through rush hour traffic.  However as soon as they arrived, the nerves and anxiety returned, making Bucky feel nauseous as a cold sweat broke out on his brow.

“Ahhh, Mr. Barnes,” Tony said as Bucky entered the lab.  The inventor looked up from a half-assembled robot torso he’d been tinkering with and gave Bucky a welcoming smile.  “It’s such a never-ending joy to see you again.”

“Hi Tony,” Bucky replied, with a resigned, forced enthusiasm.

“And let me just say,” continued Tony, “How brave it is for you to come in today.  I mean, Happy was prepared to kidnap you but I was pleasantly surprised that wasn’t necessary.”  Bucky’s brow shot up to his hairline as he realized that Tony was probably being serious.  “Anyway, your perseverance isn’t just a credit to you, but an asset to science writ large.  Your efforts are a boon to all the people whose lives will be bettered by the advances you’re helping us create.”

Bucky blinked and took a seat.  “Wow, Tony,” he said, “that was really heartfelt…”

“Hold on,” Tony interrupted.  He pulled a piece of note paper out of his pocket.  “Let me see… ‘How good it is to see you,’ check, ‘You’re brave,’ check, ‘How you’re helping people,’ check…”

“Wait,” Bucky said, confused.  “Did you have a prepared statement for me?  You actually wrote all that down?”

“Of course I didn’t,” replied Tony.  “Steve wrote this.  He also included something about how beautiful your eyes are, but I’m not reading that.”  He crinkled up the note paper and tossed it over his shoulder.  “Now that we have the schmaltz out of the way, let’s get to work.”

He motioned for Bucky to get up and follow him.  They walked to the far end of the lab where Tony pushed in a code on a keypad on the wall.  A compartment on the wall opened.  Bucky gasped when he saw what was inside.  It was what appeared to be an actual human arm.  Tony removed the new arm from its protective case and held it as though it was a baby he was presenting to Bucky.

“Are you familiar with ‘Moore’s Law’?” asked Tony.  Bucky shook his head no.  “The layman’s version of it is that technology doubles every two years.  It’s how we went from computers the size of a large room to a cell phone in a few decades.  Regardless, Stark’s Law is that Moore is a wild underachiever.”

He set the arm down on a nearby stainless steel table.  “Is that skin?” Bucky asked.  “It looks like real skin.”  He tentatively touched the forearm.  “It even feels like real skin.”

Tony smiled.  “That is, as far as I can determine, the most realistic synthetic skin ever created.”

“It’s incredible,” Bucky said, wide-eyed.  “The hair on it even matches my hair on my good arm.”

“We spare no expense in the pursuit of anal-retentive attention to detail,” said Tony.  “Its size, shape, and weight is almost an exact, mirrored replica of your right arm.  And the ‘skin,’ as it were, is highly resistant to cutting, burning, and puncturing.  We had to sacrifice a bit of the strength of the prototype in order to shrink the mechanical skeleton down so it could be covered in the skin and still be within the correct dimensions, but all that really means is that your new arm will only be super strong instead of super-duper strong.”

“And it won’t… ‘malfunction’ like the prototype?” Bucky cautiously queried.

Tony shrugged.  “I can, in total honesty, say that the likelihood of this arm malfunctioning while choking a homophobe in a bar fight has been severely diminished.”  Tony frowned, seeing this wasn’t the answer Bucky had been hoping to hear.  “Look,” he said, his big, brown eyes looking suddenly solemn.  “If things don’t break, you don’t know where to make improvements.  And I am sorry about what happened.  Really, I am.  But we took the lessons we learned from the prototype to make this.  And we’ll take any lessons we learn from this arm to improve the next generation.  That’s how all technology progresses.  Really that’s how everything works.  But what you need to remember is that when the technology fails, it’s not your fault.  It’s the designer’s fault.  And it’s the designer’s responsibility to learn and improve from his failures.”

Bucky seemed to relax.  Tony flashed his famously charismatic grin.  “That being said,” he continued, “don’t go breaking my fancy new arm on purpose.  I don’t learn anything if my guinea pig walks around shoving his state-of-the-art prosthetic into industrial chipper-shredders for funnsies.”

“Got it,” Bucky nodded.  “No chipper-shredders.”

“Good.”  Tony picked up the arm.  “Now, are you ready?”

Bucky nodded again, but this time with a far more cautious demeanor.  The attachment process was much easier this time.  Tony had streamlined it to the point that the prosthetic was essentially plug-and-play.  It was only minutes after Bucky had nervously nodded his acquiescence that he was wearing a fully functional new arm.  And it was an absolute marvel.  It was lighter than the previous model, the motions smoother, and its appearance so realistic that Bucky would’ve sworn Tony had time-traveled back to Afghanistan, found all of the various pieces of his IED-destroyed limb and Frankensteined them miraculously back together.

“My god,” Bucky gasped, “it’s like I regrew my arm like a lizard.”

“Oh, re-growing tissue is the province of the Bio-Engineering Department.  That’s where the future’s really at.  But I do love playing with my machines.”  Tony smirked again.  “Besides, an actual flesh-and-bone arm can’t do this…”  He pointed to the prosthetic’s wrist area.  “Press down like you’re taking your pulse.”

“I’m taking the pulse of a machine?” Bucky asked as he pressed the faux skin.  He felt an oblong shape the size of a deformed dime.  When his fingers made contact with it an LED reading of the time showed through the synthetic flesh with surprising clarity.

“I have an internal watch now?” he stated more than asked.

“Press it again,” Tony gleefully commanded.  Bucky did as he was told.  The time switched to another number, this one flashing constant fluctuations.

“That’s your pulse,” Tony said.  “Next one is your blood pressure.”  Bucky brightened up.

“Hey, does this thing have a pedometer?  Will it keep track of my steps?”

Tony scowled.  “My technology is wasted on you.  But to answer your inane question, yes, we can keep track of your steps.”

“These are amazing times we’re living in,” declared Bucky as he repeatedly cycled through the readouts.

“These are just the default settings,” Tony said.  “We’re going to be adding new things to monitor.  Wirelessly of course.  And we’ll be collecting and analyzing all the data.  Also, completely unrelated to us possessing and monitoring every aspect of your personal medical history, I’m going to need you to sign about 700,000 forms and waivers.  Did I mention that it counts your steps?”

“You want to keep track of my blood pressure?  Go nuts.  Post it in the company newsletter for all I care.”

“Well,” Tony replied, “your blood pressure is just one of the current default settings for you to view.  You’re also going to be taking what amounts to a glorified modem that you can put anywhere in the condo.  Oh yeah,” Tony smirked, “congrats on your pending cohabitation.  Do me a favor? Don’t put coffee grinds in the disposal.  Pet peeve.”

Bucky chuckled, “Duly noted.”

“So, the monitoring device that we install in the condo will be the way that we’ll initially stay in contact with the arm.  And as we develop and perfect things, we’ll be able to monitor every system in your body.  We’ll know you’re getting a cold before you do and can tell you to act accordingly.  We can chart your blood/alcohol level and see what kind of drunk you are.  Fun stuff like that.  We can see insulin levels, iron levels, how well you sleep.  Eventually we’ll be able to do real-time white blood cell counts.  We’ll be able to see that you have cancer as soon as the first cells form.”

“That’s astounding,” Bucky said, impressed.  “I mean, I don’t want cancer, but still, good to know.”

“The end goal is to take what we learn from you to create a complete body monitoring system people can wear as a watch, like a FitBit.  Speaking of which, I have an app to install on your phone so you can see everything we see and adjust your lifestyle accordingly.”

Bucky chuckled.  “You’ll be able to tell when Steve and I have sex, what with all the blood pressure and heart rate changes and what-not.”

Tony rolled his eyes.  “You’re on the vanguard of medical science.  You’re the tip of the spear that will revolutionize healthcare as we know it.  We are literally going to reshape humanity.  But yes, we’ll also be able to know when you and Steve bump uglies.”

“Hell yeah!” Bucky joked.  He raised his new hand.  “High five!”

Tony sighed.  “Yes, well, I’m a very important person who needs to do very important things.  One of my underlings will be in to guide you through the app and sign all the waivers.  Oh, and they’re also going to need get a fingerprint and retinal scan to grant you full access to your new digs.”

Bucky shook Tony’s hand.  “Seriously Tony, thanks for everything.”

“It’s not often that the guinea pig thanks the scientist,” replied Tony, “but you’re welcome.”

“Any other advice before you leave?” Bucky asked as Tony walked to the door.  Tony stopped and thought for a second.  “Yeah.  Never get the prosthetic wet, and don’t feed it after midnight.”

Bucky gave a relieved laugh as Tony exited.  He was certain Tony’s suggestion was going to be something akin to “Next time you try choking someone to death, use your right arm.”

Bucky was playing with his new toy when the underling walked in a few minutes later.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes,” he said.

“Uh huh,” Bucky replied, distracted.  “Hey, how do I get this thing to count my steps?”  Bucky was surprised by how excited the new arm made him.  He expected to be wary, or afraid, or at least a little more leery about going through it again.  Instead, he felt eager.  He was the tip of the goddamn spear.

***

When Bucky walked into the gym bright and early the following morning, he walked in like a fucking boss.  One might even say he was strutting.  If his new arm had the ability to monitor his boss-ness (and for all he knew it did), the display on it would read FUCKING BOSS.  He peeled off his winter coat and folded it over his flesh-and-bone right arm.

“Hi Kylie,” he said as he sauntered past the receptionist desk.

“Hello Bucky,” she replied, only she didn’t say “Hello Bucky.”  She said “Hellooooo Bucky” like a male character in a Warner Bros. cartoon would say “Hellooooo Nurse”.

Bucky gave her a wink, a cocksure grin, and two finger guns in return without breaking stride.  As he walked away he heard Kylie unleash an in-no-way-subtle wolf whistle.  “ _Like a fucking boss,_ ” he thought.

“Well, well, well… would you look at what the cat dragged in,” Nat said when Bucky walked out onto the main gym floor.  She turned and slapped a distracted Sam on the bicep.  He glanced up from the clipboard he was pouring over to mumble, “Hey brother, what’s the good word?”  Before Bucky could answer Natasha slapped Sam again, this time much harder.

“Ow!” Sam barked.  “Stop hitting me, I gotta fix this schedule before the whole place falls into anarchy.”  When Sam looked up again, he blinked dumbly a few times as realization flitted across his face.  “Holy shit Sarge, you have two arms!  Is that a real arm?”

Bucky did an exaggerated body-building pose, showing off the life-like prosthetic.  Sam reached out to poke it.  “I mean, Steve said you were getting a new arm,” he gasped, “but he didn’t say you were getting a real human fucking arm.  Where do you even get a real human arm?  Is Tony robbing graves on the side?”

“I would totally believe Tony robs graves,” Natasha confirmed.

Bucky held out his arm for both of them to touch.  “Tony said it’s artificial, but honestly I’ve had this thing for like a day now and even I think it might be real.  Except that it does this…” Bucky pressed the wrist and the time glowed through the skin.

“Whoa,” said Nat and Sam simultaneously.  “That’s the craziest fucking watch I’ve ever seen,” Sam added.

Natasha rubbed the glowing flesh.  “That’s a hell of a lot of hoops to jump through just to be able to tell what time it is.”

Sam looked at his own watch and then back at Bucky.  “Huh,” he muttered.  “Is that right?  I think my FitBit is running slow.”

“Doesn’t anyone do any work in this place?”  They all turned around to see Steve approaching.  It made Bucky’s heartrate speed up as the butterflies swirled in his belly at the sight of his amazing boyfriend.

“Hey gorgeous,” Bucky said.

Steve cupped his lantern chin with his hand and looked him over in a pondering fashion.  “Hmmm, something seems a bit different about you.”  Bucky again flexed in his body-builder pose.  “No, that’s not it,” Steve said.  “There’s something else that’s different.”

“It’s his face,” blurted Natasha.  “You’re not used to seeing it be happy.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” replied Steve.  “I see that handsome face be happy about 30% of the time.  And about 30% of the time I see the back of his head, and 30% of the time I’m only seeing the top of his head.  And then the last 10% of the time he’s asleep.”

The fact that Steve had only been teasing was apparently lost on Bucky’s cock, which twitched in interest at the naughty innuendo.

Steve reached out and entwined his fingers into Bucky’s new hand.  An electric jolt of happiness went through Bucky as he was able to ‘feel’ his lover’s digits wrap around his own.

“That’s crazy,” exclaimed Steve.  He looked Bucky in the eyes, their hands still together in a lingering clasp.  “How do you like it?” Steve asked.  “Are you okay with getting back on the horse again?”

Bucky’s jolt of happiness bloomed into a feeling of euphoria.  Only Steve would have the consideration to look past the impressive example of technological innovation and ask how Bucky was processing all the fears Steve knew his boyfriend possessed.

“I think I’m fine,” Bucky assured him, giving Steve’s fingers a gentle squeeze.  “I’m helping people by doing this.  Wait ‘til I tell you all the grand plans Tony has.  This is about more than me being able to juggle or play the piano again.  Hopefully lives will be saved because of the path we started down with these prosthetics.”

Steve looked so proud in that moment as he stared at Bucky like he’d hung the moon and the stars.  He leaned in, staring down at Bucky’s lips, clearly wanting to give him a kiss right there in the middle of the busy gym floor.  He never got the chance.  Sam looked up from his clipboard, clearly exasperated, and stopped Steve in his tracks.

“I’m gonna burn this stupid schedule.  Alright you two, knock it off with the grab-ass.  Barnes, stop trying to play footsie with your hand and go get ready.  I’m gonna take all my frustrations out on that new arm.  Let’s see what you’re capable of now, because I’m gonna work you out like you’re a private in boot camp again.”

Bucky let go of Steve’s hand, snapped to attention, and saluted Sam.  “Sir, yes sir!” he yelled.

“I’ll talk to you when you’re done, assuming Sam ever lets you be done,” Steve said.

“I’m going to figure out ways to annoy Sam so he goes extra hard on you,” Natasha added.  Bucky gave each one of them his new wink-and-double-finger-gun move.  “When you’re finished up you and I are going to have a little talk about you never doing that again,” she said.  “C’mon Steve.  Let’s go find you a boyfriend who doesn’t use cutting edge technology to make finger guns.”

Bucky laughed as he made his way to the locker room.  He breezed past the free weights and Nautilus machines and noticed that not one person paid any attention to him.  He was no longer the pitiable man with the sad empty sleeve or the metal-armed robo-freak.  He was just Bucky Barnes again, like he used to be.  As far as everyone else could tell, he was just another boringly normal guy getting ready for his workout,  And to Bucky, boringly normal felt fan-fucking-tastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's only more chapter to go!! Here's hoping I'm able to crank it out nearly as quickly as I did this one!
> 
> Please drop me a comment and let me know what you think! I will be forever grateful. Also, come and chat with me anytime on Tumblr! I'm 70SecretKinks there too. Thanks!


	17. Going Out With a Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve's happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! The final chapter of this labor of love. The longest piece of fiction (or anything for that matter) that I've ever written. I can't believe it's been 14 months in the making or how supportive and awesome you all have been throughout this journey. Your kudos and comments have given me life and the inspiration to keep on writing.
> 
> I truly adore this fandom and feel so blessed by the friendships I've made as both an author and avid reader. So thanks to all for your patience and kindness. I sincerely hope you enjoy the conclusion to the story. Thank you and happy reading!!

Nat tugged at Bucky’s jacket.  “C’mon slowpoke,” she chided him.  “Your birthday shots aren’t going to drink themselves.”

Bucky stumbled a bit as she dragged him along.  “Okay, okay,” he said.  “There’s no hurry, we have all night to drink alone, relax.”  To which Nat gently smacked him in the arm.

“I will not stand here and let you keep me from enjoying your birthday,” she declared.

“Geez, sorry.”  Bucky didn’t get what the big deal was.  As far as he was concerned, it was just another Tuesday night.  Steve was helping his mom with something at her place, so it was just Bucky and Natasha grabbing a few quick, quiet drinks.  Steve and Bucky had decided to postpone the real birthday festivities until the weekend, when Steve could really focus on feting his beloved with the appropriate level of attention and enthusiasm.  His evening with Nat was just a birthday appetizer to his eventual Steve-centric birthday feast.  Or, more accurately, his evening with Natasha was a birthday aperitif.

Nat walked up to the entrance of Quiver, birthday boy in tow.  “Oh, Clint’s place.  Joy,” remarked Bucky upon seeing their destination.  “Hey, wait a tick,” he said, pointing to a sign on the door, “it says ‘Closed for Private Party’.  We’d better find someplace else.”

“Clint’s rules don’t apply to us,” said Natasha as she opened the door with one arm while shoving Bucky inside with the other.  “Now get in there, I’m on a time table.”

Bucky was about to point out that his status as a Birthday Boy should preclude a more respectful, gentler treatment, but he immediately noticed all the lights in the bar were off.  “See, I told you,” he said, “we should’ve listened to the sign.  It’s closed.”

“Is it?” Nat answered.  She looked around impatiently before restating even more loudly, “IS. IT?”

“Oh.  Right,” they heard a voice from the darkness say.  Then the lights all came on and Bucky was confronted with nearly everyone he knew screaming, “SURPRISE!” at him.  He stepped backward, embarrassed, his face blushing a crimson red.

“Awwww…guys…” he mumbled.

Steve emerged from the group and Natasha shoved Bucky hard from behind, pushing him right into Steve’s arms.  “Happy Birthday, baby,” Steve said as he planted a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.  The gathered friends and family laughed and clapped at Bucky’s wide-eyed reaction.

“Were you surprised?” Steve asked, obviously knowing the answer.

“Nothing about how great you are surprises me anymore,” Bucky admitted.

“Yeah, because Steve organized all of this on his own,” grumbled Natasha.  “Sam!  Clint!  I need alcohol and I need it now!” she yelled, striding purposefully towards the bar.

“I hope you’re not upset about the venue,” Steve whispered.  “But I didn’t have a ton of options.  And you seem to be in a much better place now.”

Bucky kissed Steve softly on the lips.  “I’m in a perfect place now.”

The happy couple walked around, hands clasped together, with Bucky thanking and greeting all of the happy party-goers.  Steve’s mom was in attendance, as were Bucky’s parents, sisters, his boss and a couple of his co-workers.  Bucky couldn’t believe all these people would come out on a brisk March night just for him.

“Let’s get the birthday boy a drink,” Steve said, guiding Bucky to the bar, where they found Kylie chatting up Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.  Bucky’s dad seemed bemused by the receptionist’s incessant rambling, his mom politely less so.  “Hey son,” greeted Bucky’s dad, “lemme buy you a beer.”

“Thanks pops,” Bucky said.

“So how old are you now?” Kylie asked, mid-sip on the straw of a spectacularly fruity drink.

“I’m twenty-seven,” he answered.

“Heh, that means twenty-seven years and nine months ago your parents totally bone-zoned,” Clint interjected as he handed Bucky a frosty glass of beer.

Steve, Bucky, and Bucky’s parents all stopped chatting and turned to stare at Clint.  “What?” he asked.

Bucky cleared his throat.  “Clint, I’d like you to meet my parents, Winnie and George.”

Clint looked at Bucky’s dad, then at Bucky’s mom, then back at Bucky’s dad.  “Good on ya, George,” he said while motioning at Winnie.  “That’s a good get.”

“Well, happy birthday to me,” muttered Bucky, exasperated before taking a huge swig of his beer.

“Make sure you tip him well, George,” Winnie commanded.

A little while, a few beers, and several celebratory birthday shots later Bucky felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.  The display read, “Tony Stark,” which was about the same time Bucky noticed that Tony wasn’t at the party.  Not that he really expected Tony to attend his birthday party.

“Hi, Tony,” Bucky said.

“I got a notification from your arm saying it’s your birthday,” Tony said by way of a greeting.

“Really?”

“No.  Steve told me.  So I guess it wasn’t your arm so much as your arm candy that told me.  God, I am hilarious!  Anyway, I have a pretty important upgrade for your arm.  And since I’m supposed to attend your soiree, I figured I’d kill two birds with one prosthetic stone.  It should only take a couple minutes to install, but it is pretty…critical.”

Bucky wasn’t sure, but it seemed that Tony sounded more serious than usual.  “Oh, okay,” he said.  “See you in a bit.”

“Who was that?” asked Steve after Bucky hung up his phone.

“Tony.  He’s on his way.  He said he and an important upgrade for me.”  Bucky looked nervously at his new arm.

“Huh.  I was wondering where he was at.”  Steve looked at Bucky looking at his arm.  “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” Steve assured him but the blond looked a bit anxious himself.

Less than half an hour later, though to Bucky it felt like an eternity, Tony walked in carrying a large, polished metal case.  It looked like a portable version of the concealed wall unit Tony had kept the various versions of the prosthetic in at the lab.  Bucky was suddenly gripped with the fear that Tony was going to take away his current prosthetic and attach a whole new arm right there in the middle of everyone.

“Mr. Barnes,” Tony announced, “Stark Industries has a birthday present for you.”  He set the case down on a high-top table next to where Steve and Bucky were standing.  He punched a code into the side and the sound of hermetic seals unlocking whooshed as the case opened.  Bucky peered warily inside.  There, suspended in the middle of the case, was a ring that looked to be made from the same type of metal alloy that had comprised Bucky’s previous prosthetic.  Bucky blinked confusedly at the case before fixing a similar look on Tony.

Tony bit his lip, trying to stifle a smile.  “This type of upgrade is more Steve’s department actually,” he said, taking the ring out and handing it over to his friend.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, still confused.

Steve smiled nervously at Bucky as he slowly dropped down on one knee and reached for Bucky’s hands, holding them in his own as he looked up at the startled brunet with a look of adoration that made Bucky want to melt into a puddle.  The cacophony of laughter and conversation that had been echoing through the bar came to a sudden halt as the gathered crowd turned their attention towards Steve and Bucky.  Sarah Rogers audibly gasped and then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes glassy with unshed tears as she watched her only child kneel down before the man he loved.

“Oh my God!” Becca suddenly exclaimed, her voice ringing louder than intended in the now silent room.

Bucky’s heart was in his throat.  He saw Steve kneeling before him, saw a ring in his hand but still couldn’t believe that this perfect human being was presumably about to propose.  He couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes as he looked down into Steve’s own that he could now read so well.  In that moment, they were the only two people in the room.  The only two people in the world.

“Bucky,” Steve started, stopping to take a deep breath, clearly trying to calm his nerves as his face blushed pink.  “From the moment I first met you, I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.  When you walked right into my arms on my first day at the club—even though you didn’t mean to—I wanted to hold onto you forever.  God, you looked so hot and you smelled so good and…sorry, that wasn’t…you’re very distracting.”

The onlookers chuckled, each of them beaming from ear to ear—honored to bear witness to this moment (save for Clint, who was visibly gagging).  Bucky worried his bottom lip between his teeth and rolled his eyes at his ridiculously adorable boyfriend.

“Then I got to know you.  Got to see how incredibly determined and strong you are.  How kind and sweet and caring, how smart and funny and blatantly sarcastic… I was instantly drawn to you and I couldn’t believe that you might be even remotely interested in me.”

“Yeah right,” Nat scoffed, speaking the words everyone else in the room was probably thinking, “’cause you’re so awful to look at, Steve.”

“She’s totally got a point,” Bucky mumbled.

“Anyway,” Steve continued unperturbed, “Since we’ve been together, I’ve been the happiest I've ever been in my entire life.  I love you Bucky.  And I knew it.  On our second date, when we had breakfast together.  It was like a flip switched inside of me or something.  And I knew you were it for me.”

“I told you!” Peggy called out from the crowd.

Steve nodded and laughed as he watched Peggy and Sarah clink their glasses together.

“Yup, you called it Aunt Pegs,” Steve admitted. Bucky looked at Peggy and confirmed to the watching crowd, “She really did.”

Steve held the ring out before Bucky.  “So, I asked Tony if he could craft this ring from the metal of your last arm.  As a symbol of your strength, your courage, and our unshakeable love.”  Steve took a steeling breath and looked up through his lashes.  “James Buchanan Barnes, will you marry me?”

Bucky sniffled as tears ran freely down his cheeks but he was beaming with joy.  “Yes,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.  “I would love to marry you, Steven Rogers.”

Steve’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he beamed up at his now-fiancé.  He held the polished band up and slid it onto the flesh and blood ring finger of Bucky’s right hand.

“Is this okay?” Steve asked quietly as he gently guided the ring over Bucky’s knuckles.  “I know it’s not traditional but then neither are we.  And I…I thought you might want to be able to feel it.  Warm the metal with your skin and feel it spin on your finger every time you turn the band with your thumb; when you’re thinking or angry or bored.”

Bucky spun the band once with his thumb.  “It’s perfect,” he said stepping closer to Steve.  “Just like you.  God, I love you so much.”  Bucky cupped Steve’s face in both hands and leaned down to press their lips together as their friends and family collectively “awwwwwwwed”, clapped and cheered for the happy couple.  Winnie began to openly sob prompting Clint to hurry over to try console her.  Bucky’s dad George just as quickly shooed him away.

After every guest at the party had a chance to hug and congratulate Steve and Bucky, the party continued on.  There was music and laughter, dart games and dancing, birthday cake and booze—it was hands-down the best night of Bucky’s entire life.  His cheeks actually ached from smiling and laughing so much as he celebrated with the people that mattered most to him in the world.

As he stood in the men’s room and washed his hands in the sink, Bucky admired the solid ring on his finger then looked at his reflection in the mirror and got misty-eyed at the sight.  He felt whole again.  Complete.  He’d come so far in such a short span of time and now…now he was going to marry the man who’d made it all possible.  He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve it—the precious gift of Steve’s love and affection—but he wasn’t about to question it.  He took a deep breath and smiled at himself, wiping the tears from his eyes when he heard a knock on the door.

“Bucky?” Steve asked.  “You okay baby?’

Bucky turned around and beamed at his fiancé before stepping out of the bathroom to damn near tackle Steve into the hallway.  He pressed Steve’s back against the wall and kissed him breathless, delving his tongue between Steve’s soft, warm lips.  Steve hummed into the kiss, pulling Bucky closer to his body before breaking away.

“We had our first kiss right here in this hallway, remember?” Steve asked as he swept Bucky’s bangs away from his eyes and tucked the strands behind his ear, keeping his other arm firmly around the brunet’s waist and looking at him with an expression on his face that could only be described as ‘stupidly happy and in love’.

“I don’t remember a lot about that night,” Bucky chuckled, “but I will _never_ forget that.”

“Yeah, me either,” Steve agreed before leaning in for another kiss.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Clint said, catching them.  "Alright, you know what.  Fuck it.  Clearly I can't keep you two from treating my hallway like your own personal bathhouse."  Clint unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock.  "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.  Go to town, boys."

Steve instantly reached a hand up to shield his own eyes.  Bucky pulled out his cell phone to snap a picture.

“Jesus Christ, Barton,” Bucky laughed, snapping a quick pic, “put that thing away.”

At the same time, Mrs. Barnes emerged from the lady’s room.  She took one look at Clint, his exposed, flaccid dick in hand, then at her amused son and mortified soon-to-be-son-in-law and immediately yelled for her husband.  “George!!  It’s time to go!”

“It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Barnes,” Clint called after her, not bothering to hide his shame.  “Can’t wait to see you at the wedding!”

***

**Six months later**

Steve and Bucky had just retired to the massive open-air bedroom in Tony’s luxurious beach house on a secluded island somewhere in the Caribbean, the name of which neither man could properly pronounce.  It was one hell of a wedding present and the most magical honeymoon Bucky never dreamed he might ever have.  The sound of the waves crashing gently against the sandy shore was the perfect soundtrack to their sweet, slow love making.  Steve rolled his hips gently against Bucky’s ass, driving into him steady and deep, massaging his prostate with every thrust.  Bucky moaned and stared up Steve, admiring the way his impressive muscles flexed beneath his smooth, tanned skin with every move of his body.  As their eyes met, Bucky couldn’t help but smile, biting down on his bottom lip to fight back the sudden urge to giggle he was so fucking happy.

“Something ticklin’ your fancy, Mr. Barnes-Rogers?” Steve drawled playfully before leaning down to press his lips softly to Bucky’s.

Bucky melted into the kiss before moaning again, panting with euphoria as Steve’s condom-free cock filled him up perfectly.

“Mmmhmmm…” Bucky hummed in the affirmative, digging his heels harder into the firm, rounded meat of Steve’s glorious ass.  “My _husband’s_ big, beautiful, bare dick.”

Steve growled and snapped his hips a little harder.  “It’s all yours, baby.  Only yours.”

“Fuck, I love you so much,” Bucky groaned.  “Don’t stop.”

“I love you too,” Steve said before diving down to capture Bucky’s mouth with a passion-filled kiss.

Steve didn’t stop.  Not until Bucky was shouting his name and clenching hard around his cock.  Not until they were both spent and sweaty and blissfully sated.  As they laid side-by-side on the oversized bed, eyes closed and breath still labored, they were startled out of their post-orgasmic high by the sound of Steve’s phone vibrating.  “Who the fuck is texting me?  Everyone we know knows we’re on our honeymoon,” he griped as he grabbed it off the nightstand.  “Huh,” he said, “it’s a message from Tony.”

“Oh.  Everything okay?” Bucky asked.  “Tell him thanks again for this place.  It’s amazing.”

Steve rolled his eyes.  “It says ‘Atta boy, ride ‘em cowboy, make him scream my name once.’  Seriously Tony?  Every single time we fuck…”

Bucky burst out laughing as he looked down at his prosthetic arm.  “I swear I asked him to change the data collection settings months ago.”

“Well,” Steve said with a devilish glint in his eyes, “if he refuses to change the settings, what do you say we just give that damn computer so much data it short-circuits?”

“I like the way you think,” Bucky chuckled as he rolled on top of Steve, kissing his sweet, beautiful, perfect husband soundly on the lips as he straddled his hips.  “I still can’t believe we get to do this for the rest of our lives,” Bucky sighed contentedly.

“‘Til the end of the line, Buck,” Steve replied.  “‘Til the end of the line.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had mixed emotions posting this final chapter today. I'm elated and relieved but also a little sad to leave these particular characters behind. That said, this won't be the last you'll be hearing from me ;-) Other works are in progress and on the horizon. Of course I'd love to hear from you too! Comments are so gratifying and I promise I will answer you!
> 
> Also, if you haven't already, please come find me on tumblr - I'm 70SecretKinks there too.
> 
> Cheers!


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